Undeniable Chronologically
by Mizvoy
Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. JC PostEndgame This is the Undeniable story modified to put it into chronological order.
1. Chapter 1

Explanation: Since I published "Undeniable" in 2003, I've been asked repeatedly to republish it in chronological order. I resisted this for quite some time, but then read through it myself and realized that it is quite a different story when read this way. So, with your indulgence and a few minor modifications in the story's structure, I'm reposting it from beginning (four months after Voyager's return) to end (three years and four months after the return). I'm leaving the story in its original format, as well. Enjoy! Mizvoy

Disclaimer: Paramount rules. I'm just playing with their dolls.

Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. J/C Post-Endgame

Undeniable

By Mizvoy

Chapter 1 (Chronologically)

September 15, 2378 (four months after Voyager's return)

Mark Hopkins Inter-Galactic Hotel San Francisco—Suite 818—1700 hours

When Kathryn Janeway heard that the decision on the future of her crew was scheduled to be released the following week, she'd used every shred of her influence and notoriety to obtain an advance copy. Instead of opening it in her office, however, she decided to download it into a PADD and leave Starfleet Headquarters early for a long weekend. It was a beautiful Friday, so she changed out of her uniform and walked into the city where she purchased a bottle of good Kentucky bourbon, downloaded a few credits, and picked up some necessities she'd need for her solitary retreat. Then she caught a scheduled local transport to Union Square, which was a short distance from the recently restored Mark Hopkins Hotel, and walked incognito to her destination. She kept the PADD in her hand, fingering it nervously as she walked.

Admiral Hayes had made a few nonspecific allusions to what the message contained when she'd picked it up in his office and had been surprised when she didn't read it right away. "Are you sure you don't want to look at it now, Kathryn?" he'd asked, obviously disappointed. "You won't be able to discuss it with anyone but me before the hearing next week, you know."

She shivered at the way he'd peered at her, and she knew that what he really wanted was to see her reaction, just plain curiosity. That was the reason behind her flight. Even if the news of upcoming hearing was leaked, as it most assuredly would be, no one in the press or Starfleet would think to look for her at a San Francisco hotel, and there was no way to trace her, since she would be careful to pay in cash for the entire weekend and register under an assumed name.

Admiral Hayes had given her seventy-two hours to read the decision before he sent out summonses for the hearing, and she intended to use every minute of the weekend to prepare herself for the next step, whatever that entailed. The crew had been given a limited, supervised release and all of them remained on earth, so she wasn't worried about finding them or getting them to San Francisco in a timely manner. The fact that security forces had not taken the crew into custody gave her real hope that this situation was coming to a positive conclusion. In the meantime, she'd read the decisions in the sanctuary of a private suite at the Mark Hopkins. For now, she wanted solitude and time to think. She wanted to retreat.

She knew that her counselors would not approve of her decision. While they'd stopped short of faulting her for maintaining a "proper" distance from her crew while in deep space, they'd been very concerned about her continuing preference for isolation and seclusion now that Voyager was home. In her years on Voyager, she'd become a master at repressing her emotions and sublimating her need for intimacy and affection in favor of hard work and duty, a habit the counselors continually told her would have to change if she wanted to return to a normal, healthy lifestyle.

"You need to allow yourself to feel the emotions you've repressed, Kathryn," the counselors said. "You need to relax and face the losses and the pain that you've put aside in the last seven years. And you need to indulge your need for intimacy and love. It won't be easy, but it's a process you must go through sooner or later or the damage could be permanent." The image of her white-haired older self flashed through her mind.

She'd bristled at the implication that she'd lied to herself or deluded herself in some way about her feelings, but the counselors had remained adamant. "Don't think of it as lying, Kathryn," they'd cautioned her. "You looked past the truth because facing it was too painful and would have made it impossible to function. You put survival above all else, including the truth. But now you need to open up to your feelings, no matter how difficult it is for you."

But, in spite of their advice, she'd resisted doing that. She felt as if her life was still on hold, as if she were holding her breath, reluctant for the whole experience to truly come to an end. There were times when she thought it would never end. And, she'd learned through experience that she needed this distance, this control, if she were to keep her sanity in the meantime.

The four months since Voyager's arrival had been, in some ways, among the worst in her life as a Starfleet captain, as bad personally as any four month block of time in the Delta Quadrant. At least on her bridge she'd felt as if she'd had some control over her crew's destiny. Since their return, she'd felt helpless to influence the outcome of the bureaucracy's deliberations, and the loss of control had been maddening. She longed to be in charge again as she'd been on Voyager, where she could take whatever action she deemed necessary, where she could issue orders, where her crew's future, good or bad, was at least in her own hands and not that of strangers, where the consequences of her decisions were immediate, not hopelessly delayed or mired in political negotiations.

The threat hanging over all their heads robbed her of peace and closure, yet she'd kept even that frustration carefully repressed. She'd dutifully attended the welcome home festivities, greeted countless cheerful family members, accepted untold expressions of thanks for all she'd done for her crew, for all of her sacrifices, for all of her labors to bring the ship home. The ship's exploits were constantly recounted over the airwaves and she was interviewed time and again about her experiences, answering the same questions with limitless patience and good humor. She smiled and rephrased her answers, she discussed their experiences and reflected on their gains, but she wasn't happy, wasn't satisfied.

All of parties, all of the accolades, she thought to herself, were a pointless waste of time, busy work to keep them from thinking about what might happen to them when the decisions on their futures were finally made. She'd wanted to tell her crew to wait before they celebrated, to thank her once they were sure they were welcome, to be wary until they were truly free to pursue their lives without fear. In public, she'd been positive, happy, sane and optimistic—the archetypal Starfleet captain home from the challenges of deep space without a perceptible physical blemish or psychological scar.

In private, she'd brooded and worried and fretted until her mother was beside herself with concern. On the weekends when Kathryn visited her family in Indiana, she usually spent most of her time sleeping or taking long walks alone through the countryside, and she was strangely unwilling to tell the stories of her adventures. She evaded her mother's questions about Voyager, usually deciding to take a nap or spend time alone as soon as a question was asked.

"I wish you'd talk to me about some of what I hear in the media," her mother said one afternoon after lunch. "I'm fascinated by what happened to you out there and I want to hear about it from your perspective."

"I know you do, Mom. But I've spent nearly every day of the last two months talking about it. I need some time to come to terms with everything, and then we'll have some long talks." She'd stood up, snapping her fingers for the dog to follow her outside. "Zeus and I are going for a walk. I'll be back in time for dinner."

Gretchen had stopped her at the door. "Katie, are you sure you're all right? Are you seeing a counselor?"

"Yes, I'm seeing a counselor, Mom. In fact, I'm seeing two of them. I just need some time." And with that, Kathryn had once again escaped.

Gretchen Janeway had first enlisted her younger daughter, Phoebe, to dispel Kathryn's black mood. Phoebe took her sister shopping, invited her to dinner, introduced her to half a dozen eligible men, and tried every trick she could think of to force Kathryn to forget, at least for a few hours of pleasure, the responsibility that she still carried. In spite of moments of obvious cheerfulness, Kathryn's overall mood was not significantly affected. She smiled, but the smile never reached her eyes. She agreed to Phoebe's plans, but never made any of her own.

"I give up, Mom," Phoebe said after two weeks of effort. "I think Katie wants to be unhappy. No matter what I tried, she'd eventually get quiet and withdraw again, worse than ever."

When Phoebe's efforts failed, Gretchen turned to Chakotay, the man who'd been beside Kathryn through their long exile, and asked him to talk to her and find out the source of her daughter's lingering melancholy. He'd met with Kathryn briefly, a few hours over lunch, and then called Gretchen with his opinion.

"It's the apprehension," Chakotay had reported. "She's never been a patient person, you know, and nothing could be more suspenseful than the Federation's delay in issuing a decision, especially when the lives and happiness of her crew hang in the balance. And she feels powerless to do anything to help." He paused, giving Gretchen a boyish grin. "On Voyager, she spent times like this disassembling and 'repairing' her replicator. Unless you know a good engineer, keep her away from yours."

Once in her suite at the Mark Hopkins, Kathryn swallowed the bourbon and coughed as it burned her throat. She sprawled on the sofa and eyed the PADD she'd tossed carelessly on the coffee table. She wanted to believe that the judge's willingness to give her advance access to the decision foretold a good result, but she wasn't sure. It could mean that some of her crew would go free while others did not. Would the Maquis be prosecuted for crimes they'd committed nearly eight years earlier? Would the Equinox survivors be thrown in prison because they'd followed Captain Ransom's unlawful orders? Would Tom Paris go back to jail? Would her Starfleet career end in disrepute because of the decisions she'd made in the isolation and jeopardy of the other side of the galaxy?

She sighed and walked to the window, looking out toward the bay. It was a picture postcard afternoon, clear blue skies with cottony clouds, bright sunlight, and whitecaps on the blue water. She'd dreamed of this view a thousand times while on Voyager, both waking and sleeping. It had been her safe place, the image she'd created to escape from the worst, most depressing moments of despair. She'd imagined herself standing at a window like this, in this very hotel that she and Mark favored for special getaways, sipping wine while he stood behind her, his arms around her shoulders as they looked toward the safe and glorious future that had been restored to them.

She wondered idly if they'd ever shared this particular suite during their long courtship and considered, for a moment, accessing the hotel's data base to find out. But that would be a pointless gesture. Mark was happily married and the father of twin boys who were just turning two. She'd met them just a month after Voyager's return, giving each of them a tiny replica of her ship, yet she'd felt oddly unaffected by the experience at the time. These boys were Mark's children, symbols of all that had been taken from her by her exile in the Delta Quadrant.

Now she choked back a sob, remembering the look of wonder in the boys' eyes as they'd held the ornaments in their small, pudgy hands--gifts from the woman who might have been their mother. Perhaps for the first time in nearly four years, she accepted the fact that her perfect future with Mark Johnson was gone forever, that the love and the belonging and the home that she'd left behind were no longer possible. There was no Mark Johnson waiting for her, no Mollie and her puppies, no house in Marin County with chrysanthemums blooming by the front door, no twin boys with bright blue eyes. No, she had her mother and her childhood room in a farmhouse in Indiana.

"Don't be pathetic, Kathryn," she said aloud, taking another long pull from the bourbon. "After all, you're the one who stranded Voyager out there. You should be glad that you're still alive, that your crew didn't mutiny and hand you over to the Kazon. Or the Vidiians. Think about what you've gained, not what you've lost." But the admonitions fell flat, and as she realized just exactly what she'd given up, all that she'd lost, hot tears welled up and threatened to spill onto her cheeks.

Coming here alone wasn't such a good idea, she realized, nor was the bourbon. She had always been prone to depression, and the last thing she needed to do was to dwell on the negatives, to mourn for losses long since buried and better forgotten, and to get drunk while doing it. This wasn't, after all, about Kathryn Janeway; this was about her crew, about her obligations and duties. She'd deal with her own personal problems later, when the dust settled. Repress the emotions. Sublimate her needs. Keep moving forward.

She returned to the sofa, refreshed the bourbon in her drink, and picked up the PADD, studying the light that glittered on its smooth surface. What was she waiting for? She'd been impatient for this moment to arrive for weeks and months, yet she'd had the information in her hands for almost two hours without as much as a brief review of the decision it contained. It was almost as if she were procrastinating.

But Kathryn Janeway, she told herself, did not procrastinate. She was always ready for action, she was forceful, she was proactive, she was "an ant on a hot rock," according to her first officer. She had erred on the side of action in nearly every crisis in her life. So, why not read the decision and move on?

Maybe it was that she didn't want her captaincy of Voyager to end. That was probably part of the problem. Chances were that she'd find out that everyone was free, that her responsibilities were over, that her crew would scatter in every direction, never to be together again. The classic empty nest syndrome. But then she reminded herself that the crew had already scattered. She hadn't seen most of them in months and hadn't even been on Voyager herself in weeks. That couldn't be the only reason for her delay. There was more.

Perhaps she was worried about what would be required of her next. She was tired just thinking about it. Would she be fighting for her crew's freedom? For their lives? Or would she be celebrating their release? One or the other, or a combination of both, she assumed. She'd do whatever was required of her without complaint and to the best of her ability. That couldn't be the source of the procrastination, either.

No, she'd been most upset when she'd remembered that favorite dream, standing in this hotel looking out toward the future she had been planning with Mark. For years, she'd returned to that dream as her "safe place," the moment that brought her peace and hope. So why was it so different now? She'd very nearly cried at the thought of it. Why? Because she finally knew it was impossible?

Perhaps the counselors were right, she reasoned. Perhaps she'd repressed her emotions and ignored her needs for so long that the thought of facing them scared her to death. Perhaps she was afraid they would overwhelm her, or that she would spiral out of control into a bourbon-enhanced crying jag.

So be it. She'd never lacked the courage to face an enemy while standing on the bridge, and she wasn't about to give in to Kathryn Janeway's inner demons. She studied her empty glass, refilled it, and returned to the window, taking in the beautiful day before she closed her eyes and allowed herself to create the vivid memory of her dream.

She was standing in a room like this one, perhaps in this very suite, looking out at San Francisco Bay. She was wearing her favorite peach silk nightgown and leaning back against the warm, solid body of the man she loved as he put his arms around her and gently nuzzled her neck. There was a familiar piece of classical music playing in the background and on the low table in front of the sofa lay the remains of a room service tray, including a large carafe of coffee that was nearly empty, the remains of an appetizer sampler, and two empty bottles of white wine. She was a little drunk, but very happy, sated, and excited about the prospect of a delightful weekend of rest and relaxation.

That was where the dream had always ended. In all the years on Voyager, she had never allowed herself to go beyond that feeling, never allowed herself to remember the intimate lighting of the hotel room, the warm tingling in her body as his hands and mouth caressed her, the tangled sheets just visible in the adjoining bedroom, the feeling of his body pressed against her backside. She couldn't have endured that memory while she was still thousands of light years away and completely and hopelessly alone, and so she had simply repressed that portion of it, stopped short of it, and had focused instead on the previous moment of contentment and belonging. She'd always been happy to leave it at that.

But, she was home now and she needed to push on, to summon up the remainder of her dream so she could face what she had lost, come to terms with it, and find the closure she needed. Here, in San Francisco, in heart of the Federation, there were literally hundreds of potential suitors that she could choose from. Here she could map out a new future and restore her chance for happiness without restriction. She no longer had to put aside those sublimated desires and hopes. She could be a woman again. But none of it would happen until she put this dream behind her, until she finally gave up on the impossible and grasped the possible with both hands.

And so she concentrated on the rest of the dream. She remembered putting her arms atop his as they encircled her waist and leaning her head to the side to allow his mouth better access to the sensitive shell of her ear. She shivered at the memory of his warm breath against her neck, his hands cupping her breasts gently, and then she turned in his embrace and smiled up into his brown eyes, molding her body against . . .

No.

Her eyes flew open. Blue eyes. Mark had blue eyes, not brown.

And then the truth ripped through her like a knife and she doubled over, gasping for breath as the emotions she'd avoided for years hit her like a punch in the stomach and left her dizzy with despair.

The man standing behind her in the dream, the man she loved and needed to let go of once and for all, wasn't Mark Johnson.

It was Chakotay.

To be continued . . .


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Paramount rules. I'm just playing with their dolls.

Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. J/C Post-Endgame

Undeniable

By Mizvoy

Chapter 2 (Chronologically)

September 16, 2378 (four months after Voyager's return)

Mark Hopkins Intergalactic Hotel Suite 818—2000 hours

Kathryn Janeway couldn't remember the last time she'd been this intoxicated, but she was fairly sure that she'd still been a young cadet. In some ways she was embarrassed by her juvenile behavior, by her attempt to drown her troubles in alcohol like an inexperienced ensign, but in other ways she felt strangely liberated by her self-indulgence. It had been a long time since she'd reacted emotionally to a situation. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd let herself react naturally to any experience, good or bad. If she felt like getting drunk, well, who had the right to tell her not to?

The problem with drinking was that she hated to throw up, and she almost always got sick when she drank too much. She thought about the hypospray of interpropaline, the alcohol neutralizer, she'd long ago talked the doctor into providing her. She'd used it a couple of times in the Delta Quadrant when alien negotiators had tried to get her drunk and take advantage of her, and she'd brought it with her this weekend just in case. But now she felt that "curing" her condition would be cheating. And Kathryn Janeway never cheated.

"The best lessons," she could hear her mother lecturing her, "are taught by suffering through the consequences of our actions."

"The consequences of my actions," she said aloud to the empty room, "are the reason I'm drinking, Mother."

Her face was numb, her stomach heaving, and she was fairly certain that she couldn't walk more than a few steps without keeling over, so she snuggled into the bed's pillows, pulled the hotel's oversized robe around her, and tried to relax. She realized, too late, that she should've eaten something along with the bourbon, but now the thought of food made her even more nauseous.

The last several hours were a blur. She remembered crying when she'd realized the depth of her personal deception, when she'd finally admitted to herself that she'd been in love with Chakotay, and then realized that she'd lost him forever. She had stretched out on the soft flokati rug beneath the huge plate glass window and sobbed like a child for that loss and so many others, oblivious to the fog that had rolled in and taken away the beautiful view, oblivious to the passage of time, oblivious to everything but the pain in her heart. After a while, she'd gotten up and collapsed on the sofa, where she finally picked up the PADD and scanned the highlights of the decision.

Her ordeal was truly over. She was relieved to read that the Equinox Five were to be given a general discharge from Starfleet. They could never resume their careers, but they could work in a reputable private firm. Tom Paris' sentence was commuted and his Starfleet rank restored. The Maquis were pardoned and many would be offered commissions. Seven's Federation citizenship had been restored, and the EMH's program was considered "untouchable for the foreseeable future." Kathryn's own actions, "while requiring further review," were deemed "generally appropriate under the unique circumstances of Voyager's exile." There'd be a hearing, no doubt, but no permanent damage to her career.

The news made her feel a little better. At least her sacrifices hadn't been in vain. Her crew was free, truly home, and her duty to them complete. She'd stayed the course. She'd kept her promise. She'd faced down insurmountable odds and overpowering enemies. She'd become so focused, so intent, so dedicated that she'd put everything and everyone else aside. She'd become nearly as obsessed with her mission as her counterpart from the future. She'd gone too far, given up too much, but she'd been successful. That's what really mattered.

Tears threatened again, and she decided to stop thinking about herself as some sort of martyr before she dissolved in self-pity. The counselors had warned her that she would become emotional when the nightmare of the last seven years finally ended, but she'd been skeptical. She thought she'd be blissfully happy, relieved, and ready to party.

"I've been to hell and back without so much as a tear in my eye," she'd told them. "I've lost a third of my Starfleet crew, lost possession of my ship to pirates and mutineers, watched friends betray me, other friends die in front of me. I didn't let any of it stop me."

"You didn't have the luxury of mourning," they'd argued back. "The emotions are still there, waiting to grab you by the throat. And you'll need help when they do."

"Well, I'll just throttle the emotions first," she'd countered, her head held high. "I can do anything I set my mind to do."

However, Kathryn had to admit that she'd already cracked a little, already succumbed somewhat to those cursed emotions. Instead of feeling upset by it, she'd refilled the glass to the top with a celebratory drink. There was no time for regret, no patience for self-pity when she knew quite well that she'd brought this disaster upon herself.

What she wanted was a tub of hot, sudsy water, a few hours luxuriating in the bubbles, and soft classical music to soothe her soul. She'd needed that cry, she told herself, as a release of the incredible pressure and tension she'd endured. But now it was over. She'd gone through the worst of it, experienced the emotional catharsis the counselors had predicted, and she was feeling better now that it was over. Tomorrow, she'd pick up the flag and carry on, like the good Starfleet captain she was.

But today? This weekend? She'd indulge her emotions a little bit. So what if she shed a few tears? The counselors had said she should, and she was, after all, only human. But only so many tears, she told herself, and no more. She should celebrate like a Starfleet captain, not sob like a baby.

Her mind made up, she'd risen from the sofa and made her way into the luxurious bathroom where she filled the tub with hot water and a rose-scented bubble bath. Placing her drink on the side of the tub and ordering a favorite series of adagios from the computer, Kathryn had slid into the hot water with a groan of contentment, imagining the events of the following week.

The summonses would go out first thing Monday morning, and the crew would join her in San Francisco for a formal hearing and celebration later in the week, probably Wednesday. She imagined the crew gathering at one of the many small reception rooms in the headquarters complex, milling around in excitement as they digested the news. With Chakotay beside her, as always, she'd read a short speech about her pride in the crew, her love and appreciation for all they'd done for her, and then she'd watch them react with a joy and exhilaration and that would be all the payback she would ever need.

She grew misty eyed thinking about it. Tom and B'Elanna would embrace and kiss each other passionately, Miral held between them like a family sandwich. The Equinox Five would be swarmed by the Starfleet crew, with Harry Kim leading the way. The Maquis would be slapping each other on the backs and making plans for the future; she hoped some of them, especially B'Elanna, might decide to continue their Starfleet careers. The doctor would very likely break out into song.

And then, there would be Seven and Chakotay. She caught her breath in surprise as she realized that they, too, would turn to each other in elation. They would wrap their arms around each other, kiss deeply, and stare happily into each other's eyes. They would walk through the room holding hands, openly displaying their new relationship. But they would also be kind and compassionate to Kathryn. They would invite her to their wedding, perhaps even ask her to perform the ceremony. She'd be an important player in their first child's naming dedication. She'd be invited frequently to their cozy, warm home for special dinners and private celebrations. They would always remember to include the captain in their plans. Poor lonely Captain Janeway.

She brushed away a new set of tears, irritated that she was still so emotional at the thought of her two friends as a couple. And then she thought of the crowd of people who'd been lost on their journey, Carey and Tuvix and Kes and Cavit and Stadi and so many others. More tears came. She realized she must be having a crying jag, and felt even more embarrassed by her condition.

She looked at her half empty glass, drained it, and set it with a thud on the floor beside the tub, promising herself that she'd drink nothing more. Not tonight, not ever. Then she slid into the water until her chin touched the surface, closed her eyes, and remembered bathing outdoors in a handmade tub.

New Earth. Her mind wandered to a planet in the Delta Quadrant so far away that its star was invisible from earth. She spent a few moments trying to imagine how powerful a telescope would need to be to see it, and finally gave up in frustration. It didn't matter. New Earth's star was too far away; New Earth was forever out of reach. She blinked back tears at the irony of the thought.

She wondered whether there were any signs of their brief stay remaining on the planet. They'd brought everything they could back with them, leaving only the scars they'd made in the soil—the half-planted garden, the worn path between the cabin and the river, the scarred earth where the cabin had stood. Had it all grown over, returned to its pristine condition, or did a scar remain beneath the grass and the trees, hidden from sight, the way a scar remained hidden on her heart? Someday, a thousand years from now, would some archeologist find evidence of their brief stay and wonder what it meant? Who had lived here?

The one man-made item they'd left behind was the bathtub, carefully built for her by Chakotay as a special gift, an indulgence, on a planet that was otherwise primitive and harsh. She remembered vividly the day she'd come home from checking her insect traps, depressed at her lack of progress and sweltering in the late afternoon heat, only to find Chakotay stripped to the waist, digging in the dirt, his muscular body shining with sweat. She'd been momentarily dazzled by his physique, and had been embarrassed when he'd looked up and caught her staring at him.

"Catch anything?" Chakotay had asked, grinning at her look of frank appreciation. He'd turned over the soil in a large rectangle and was now attempting to break the large clods of dirt into smaller ones, a tiresome job but one he seemed to enjoy. She wondered at his limitless capacity for hard work. He was truly a colonist, she thought.

"Nothing significant," she'd said, sighing as she stored her equipment. "I'm beginning to think that maybe the insects that infected us were in a larval stage when we arrived."

"Maybe they were. Or maybe they've gone into a cocoon, like a butterfly." He'd stood up tall, stretching his back with a moan and squinting into the setting sun. "It's hot."

"As the hinges of hell."

"Wouldn't a bath be nice?" his eyes sparkled with mischief.

Kathryn groaned. "Don't suggest that I go bathe in the river, Chakotay. You know how cold the water is. I like a hot bath, thank you very much. Or a warm one at the very least."

"The water isn't that cold," he'd teased. "Not for a hardy bath-taker like you."

"You must be kidding. I bet the river is fresh off of a snow melt up in those mountains," she'd complained, feeling whiny and tired. "I don't see you going for a swim."

"Why don't we go down there and test the water temperature? The days are getting hotter. Maybe the sun has warmed the river in the last few days." He'd walked up the work table in front of the shelter and pulled on a loose cotton shirt, and then walked toward her, carrying something in his hand. "Come with me."

"The sun doesn't warm river water that way." She'd eyed him warily, sensing his excitement in his grin. "You aren't going to throw me in the river, are you?"

"And risk having you angry with me? I have to live with you for the rest of my life, Kathryn. I know better than to make you mad."

His words had stung her, reminding her of her failure to find a cure, of their seemingly endless exile on the planet. "You don't think I can find a cure. You think we'll be stuck here forever."

He'd laughed. As he walked up to her, she realized he was carrying a clean handkerchief in his hands. "Actually, you're wrong. I do think you'll get us home someday, all the way to Earth. I don't know why I believe in you, but I do." He'd held up the folded handkerchief. "Now, let me put this over your eyes so I can show you the surprise I've hidden between here and the river."

"It's finished?" Her spirits had lifted instantly. She'd always loved surprises and had counted the days until her birthday each year when she was a little girl. He'd told her a few days earlier that he was working on something special, but had refused to tell her anything more. "What is it? A canoe?"

"Not a canoe. Although, that's a good idea. Come on. No cheating." He'd put the blind fold on her and led her away from the garden and a short distance into the forest. She could hear him picking up some large things, perhaps tree limbs that had covered his work, and throwing them into the forest. "Okay, it's ready. Take off the blind fold."

She'd opened her eyes to find the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen—a solid wood bathtub. She'd walked up to it reverently, running her hand along the smooth, oiled surface. "It's as smooth as glass."

"Can't have you getting splinters, can I?"

"Oh, Chakotay! It's perfect. Just what I needed." She'd turned to him, tears in her eyes, and then she'd given him an impulsive hug. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." His face had glowed with happiness. "I'll carry some water up from the river so you can have a nice soak tonight, what do you say?"

She'd begun to realize then what he'd confirmed later with his angry warrior "legend." He thought of her needs first, before his own, because he knew she needed his support and thoughtfulness. And he'd continued to be there for her through their seven-year partnership, challenging her when she'd needed it, reassuring her when she'd felt her determination flagging, laughing with her, listening to her, talking with her, standing beside her time and again as the ship threatened to fly apart around them. He'd known what she was sacrificing and he'd been sympathetic and understanding. And she'd taken him for granted. She'd never once thanked him for his loyalty, not really. She owed him so much.

Chakotay. She'd glanced around the dimly-lit bathroom, remembering where she was and what she was doing. She should have contacted Chakotay as soon as Hayes had informed her that the decision was ready for her review. He should have been with her as she read the PADD, and they should have celebrated their success and made their plans to tell the crew together. They'd been the perfect team for seven years; he'd been the ideal first officer. They'd faced every other triumph and disaster side by side, yet she hadn't thought of calling him. She should call him now and share their mutual success, she realized. She should call him right away.

She hadn't even bothered to dry off as she'd made her way dripping from the tub toward the comm unit in the living room, pausing long enough to wrap an oversized robe around her. Her intentions had been good, but the combination of the alcohol, the hot water, and her sudden activity overwhelmed her, making her so dizzy that she couldn't stay vertical. She'd collapsed on the king sized bed, struggling to keep the room from spinning, trying to keep from throwing up on the carpeting. She wasn't sure, but she thought she might've passed out for a short while. Her humiliation deepened at the thought.

Now, sometime later, she was still sprawled on the bed, suffering like a green ensign from an alcoholic binge. She was too drunk to contact Chakotay, couldn't bear to let him see her like this. She'd have to call him in the morning, once she was over this juvenile intoxication. Or she could use the hypospray. She lifted her head and gazed into the other room, remembering that she'd left the device on the coffee table. It might as well be a light year away, she realized, sinking back into the pillows. She'd have to tough it out right where she was until she was sober enough to crawl in there and get it.

She told herself that it was a bad time of day to call Sweden anyway, probably the early morning hours there. She struggled for a few minutes as she tried to remember how many hours ahead of San Francisco his location would be, only to give up in despair. She couldn't think clearly. Whatever the time difference was, Chakotay was probably asleep right now, curled around Seven of Nine in a nice soft bed as he snored his head off. In a couple of hours, the couple would be having breakfast and she would be sober enough to retrieve the hypospray and treat her hangover. Once she was feeling better, once she could think and speak clearly, she'd invite them both to come to San Francisco as soon as possible.

She snuggled into the pillows, suddenly exhausted. She hadn't slept well in so many years. A good night's sleep would help her get over her intoxication. She'd feel so much better when she woke up. She promised herself she'd never drink again as her eyes closed and drifted into unconsciousness.

To be continued . . .


	3. Chapter 3

Dissclaimer: Paramount rules. I'm just playing with their dolls.

Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. J/C Post-Endgame

Undeniable

By Mizvoy

Chapter 3 (Chronologically)

September 15, 2378 (four months after Voyager's return)

San Francisco—2000 hours

Fog had shrouded San Francisco Bay by the time Chakotay's shuttle arrived from New York City. He stepped out of the transport station into a cloud of suspended moisture that reduced visibility to zero and muffled the usual sounds of the city. He'd loved this weather as a cadet, so different from the relentless sun and dry heat of Dorvan V, and he welcomed the mist now like a long lost friend.

He wasn't sure what had compelled him to travel here through what had been the middle of the night in Sweden's part of the world. He'd been trying to contact Kathryn Janeway for hours, ever since they'd heard the rumor that the official decision on Voyager's crew was supposed to be issued the next week, and he supposed that her sudden inaccessibility had disturbed him. He remembered the distant look on her face when they'd met for lunch a few weeks earlier, the way she'd suddenly disconnect from him and stare into the distance, deep in thought. Although he'd reassured Gretchen Janeway that there was nothing to worry about in Kathryn's melancholy mood, he had worried about her ever since. She seemed more fragile and vulnerable than he'd ever seen her, and he wondered how she would react when the final decisions on the crew's future were issued.

As soon as he'd heard the rumors of the upcoming hearing from Tom Paris, he'd called Kathryn's office, but the aide for her analysis group informed him that she was in a meeting and would be unavailable until later in the afternoon. He'd considered leaving her a message to contact him at Seven's apartment, but the aide had held out little hope for a return message before the following week. When Chakotay continued to press for details, the man had finally admitted that he didn't expect her to return to the office for the rest of the day and that she had apparently taken time off for a long weekend. Would Kathryn leave work early when the decision was about to be issued? A tiny alarm went off in his head.

Gretchen Janeway, the next person he'd contacted, had been even less informative. Kathryn had called and left a message that she'd not be home for the weekend, but she hadn't volunteered any specific information on her plans nor had she hinted at an upcoming hearing. "I was hoping she'd taken a trip with friends, the way she used to," Gretchen had said. "She could be anywhere. Should I be worried about her?" He'd reassured her that there it was nothing of any concern, of course, but had simultaneously begun to wonder if Kathryn had managed to get an advanced copy of the draft decision and simply disappear to read it in private. It sounded like something she would do.

Seven had been dispassionate about the situation and had assured him that the captain was probably fine, perhaps even commemorating the end of her long ordeal by taking a small celebratory vacation. "She's been awaiting this decision for many weeks, Chakotay. She's probably commemorating its arrival in her own private way. She always kept her distance from the crew, you know. Why should this be any different?"

Chakotay had shaken his head in disbelief. Of course, Seven would think of Kathryn as private and reclusive because she thought of her only as the captain. Kathryn had been a virtual outsider on Voyager, a prisoner to work, duty, and responsibility, but that wasn't her normal personality. She had dozens of friends and acquaintances from her many years in Starfleet, and she was a natural extrovert.

Why would she, as Seven speculated, celebrate in her own private way? He wasn't sure that Kathryn would react well to any decision, good or bad, but he had only his intuition to tell him that something was wrong about her sudden disappearance. He made a few more calls to mutual friends, but learned nothing helpful about her recent frame of mind. He finally gave up and prepared for bed, crawling between the sheets at his usual hour and going through his normal relaxation routine.

Sleep wouldn't come. Attempts at meditation were equally futile, so after a few hours of restlessness, he put on his clothes and decided to take a walk, his thoughts focused on his former captain and her preference for "private" retreats. Seven, who wouldn't need to regenerate for several more hours, simply nodded as he left, reminding him to take a jacket. He wandered through the neighborhood barely noticing his surroundings.

He carefully reviewed everything he could remember about their lunch together. Beneath the surface, carefully hidden behind her friendly smile and gentle teasing, was an uncharacteristic stillness, a dangerous withdrawal that signaled trouble. During their meal, he'd seen moments of uncertainty in her eyes, a remoteness that had chilled him to the bone. When he remembered the look on her face, he could still see an emotion in her eyes, a combination of hopelessness and despair that haunted him. He felt that she was a powder keg waiting to explode.

If she'd managed to get advance notification of the decision, how would she react to it? What would she do when she received it? Where would she go? What actions would she take if the decision contained bad news? Would she try to warn him if the Maquis faced trial and possible incarceration? He didn't think she should read such critical information alone and wished they'd talked in advance about how they'd handle the situation. He should be with her now as he'd been with her throughout the Delta Quadrant ordeal.

With a tiny wince of guilt, he realized that she would hesitate to call him because of his relationship with Seven of Nine. As soon as Kathryn had learned of his liaison with the former Borg, she'd withdrawn from him, asserted an independence and remoteness he hadn't experienced with her in years. He had waited too long to tell her about it, and she'd heard about it, instead, from her future self. He thought of the older more cynical Kathryn with an angry huff. The admiral had used his relationship with Seven to hurt Kathryn in a way she didn't deserve, and Kathryn had believed they were destined to marry, as they had in the admiral's lifetime, even though the future had been irrevocably changed. In spite of his assurances that they'd had only a few dates, she'd turned away from him with a finality that still hurt and angered him when he thought about it. He wished he could have five minutes with that older Kathryn just to give her a piece of his mind.

He had walked for nearly an hour when he decided to look for her, returning to Seven's apartment at a trot to tell her where he'd be and why he had to go. Packing just a few necessities, he'd soon discovered that travel as a civilian was much more time-consuming and circuitous than as a Starfleet officer. Instead of beaming directly to San Francisco, he'd had to make arrangements for shuttle flights. It had taken him hours to get to London and catch the New York City shuttle, hours more to find space in a flight to San Francisco. In spite of the time difference and his persistent effort to find the earliest possible flights, he'd arrived after normal office hours on Friday afternoon, long after everyone at Starfleet command had gone home for the weekend, leaving no one behind who had seen or spoken to Kathryn that day. And he still had no clue as to where he would find her.

He'd tried to sleep through the flight from New York but had experienced fragmented dreams of Kathryn. He'd dreamt of her on New Earth, recalling the time that he had massaged her neck and shoulders, the long rope of her hair smooth as silk in his hands, her skin warm and creamy white. Then he'd dreamt of her battered and torn body when she'd allowed herself to be partially assimilated by the Borg, the horrible holes in her skin where tubes and machinery had violated her body. He'd seen her lifeless in his arms after their shuttle crash, her skin cold and clammy as he tried to resuscitate her. Every effort to sleep left him tossing and turning in his seat until he finally gave up on sleeping at all.

And so he'd sat up and quieted his mind, staring out of the window as the ship approached California, taking in the familiar sights of the geography of the western part of North America. As the shuttle approached the west coast, he saw the familiar fog rolling in, filling the city from the bottom up, leaving the taller structures to poke through the clouds like stalagmites, one of the tallest of which being the recently restored Mark Hopkins InterGalactic Hotel.

The Mark Hopkins Hotel reminded him of Kathryn. His mind went back to a night in the captain's quarters when she'd spoken of that particular hotel. They'd finished their meal and had moved to the sofa to talk about home. This particular night they talked about living in San Francisco and enduring the suffocating workload at Starfleet Command, especially the difficulty in finding time to get away and relax when assigned to headquarters.

She'd laughed and said, "Mark and I used to sneak away for weekends right there in the city, practically in the shadow of my office building. There are some wonderful hotels that give Starfleet officers a special weekend rate on their luxury suites. We'd rent one of those and pay cash to preclude being tracked by our use of credit records. Staying there maximized our time off because it eliminated the need to travel, and no one ever thought to look for me right under their noses."

As the shuttle had landed, he realized where he needed to go. Now, as he stood in the cool damp of the evening, he smiled, glancing around at the fog-filled street. He knew the Mark Hopkins still offered those special weekend rates on suites. And, it was right up the street from his location, a nice walk after his hours of sitting.

"We have no one here by the name of Janeway, sir." The desk clerk's manners were flawless, yet Chakotay could barely stifle his frustration. He knew Kathryn was there and wished he could just swivel the man's computer around and look at the register himself.

Instead, he tried another tactic. "Perhaps you remember her? She's about this tall, dark red hair, blue eyes, quite petite?"

"You're talking about Captain Kathryn Janeway? From Voyager? Of course, I've seen her on the newsvids since Voyager's return." The clerk shrugged. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't recall seeing her, but I came on duty just a few hours ago, and the previous clerk is long gone."

"Thanks anyway," Chakotay replied, struggling to keep from taking his aggravation out on the innocent worker. "Thanks for your time."

He moved to a hallway leading to the back entrance of the hotel, pretending to access one of the comm links that lined the wall as he studied a PADD he pulled from the small bag he'd slung over his shoulder. When he was sure the clerk was busy elsewhere, he used the PADD to unlock a hallway door and slipped into the darkened back office where he quickly logged onto a computer.

It was easy to hack into the hotel's files and pull up the guest register, looking for a name that would catch his eye, someone who had checked in today for the weekend and paid in cash. There were only a few, one of which was a person by the name of Joanna Archer. He stopped to think. Kathryn had mentioned that she and Mark had loved to use an alias when they checked in. "You know, something close to a famous name, but not quite the same," she'd said. "Jane Kirk. Ray Garrett. Lynn McCoy."

All famous Starfleet officers—almost. Joanna Archer? Hadn't Jonathan Archer been the captain of the first Enterprise? Suite 818. He smiled with satisfaction. That had to be Kathryn.

Chakotay logged off of the computer, let himself out of the office, and paced along the back hallway considering his options. He could simply pick up a comm and call her, but she could ignore the call or prescreen it to avoid talking to him. Even so, the easy direct route was always worth a try. He stepped to the wall unit and tapped in the number for suite 818, only to be told that the occupant was not taking calls. So much for taking the simple solution.

He imagined himself riding the elevator to the eighth floor, studying the posted floor plan for the location of Suite 818, walking up to the doorway, and having a complete stranger named Joanna Archer open the door. If that happened, he was could escape without too much embarrassment, saying something like, "Oh, this isn't 618? So sorry to disturb you."

But, he knew in his heart Joanna Archer wouldn't be there, that Kathryn Janeway would answer the door. If she answered the door at all. He walked to the bank of elevators and waited for a car. If the hotel was as up-to-date as it professed to be, each room probably had an individualized security system, where the patrons would enter their own privacy code as they arrived. If Kathryn was there, as he suspected, her door would open once he entered her code into the mechanism. If it failed to open, it would not be Kathryn. All he had to do was figure out the code she would most likely have used.

An easy enough task. On Voyager, they had carried on a friendly contest over her door code starting soon after he'd become her first officer. He didn't really know why he'd decided to figure out the code to her quarters in the first place. He was bored, unable to sleep, and snooping around in the ship's computer, supposedly learning all he could about Voyager. It hadn't been easy for him to give up command and accept a subordinate position, especially when the captain had so far routinely left him out of the loop on many of her decisions. Maybe he just wanted to prove to himself that he could gain access to any part of the ship whenever he wanted, even Kathryn's inner sanctum. Probably it had more to do with the odd attraction he'd felt toward her from the first time they'd met.

Whatever the reason, he was actually cocky about having figured out her door code so quickly and easily. He was also sure he had done so without leaving a trail, but then he found himself standing in front of the ready room desk looking into the blazing blue eyes of a very angry captain.

"What's the meaning of this, Commander?" she'd demanded, pushing a PADD toward him. "Are you planning to take up cat burglary? Or maybe just stage a mutiny?"

He'd decided against feigning innocence as he scanned the readout, seeing quite clearly the path he'd taken to discover her door code documented step by step. Better to turn the tables on her by telling the truth than to try to lie.

"A simple test," he'd answered, placing the PADD softly on her desk. "If I'd intended to use the code to gain access to your quarters, Captain, I would have done so already."

She'd blinked, obviously surprised by his brazen answer. "A test of what?"

"To see how easily I could do it. The Maquis pride themselves for their skill at breaking codes like this, Captain, and I guess I was concerned about your personal privacy. If I can gain access to your quarters so quickly, so can my people."

"Why would someone want my door codes?"

He'd smiled at her. Did she have any idea what the Maquis were capable of under the worst of circumstances? Didn't she realize that garnering the favor of the captain or having special insight into the captain's likes and dislikes would come in handy on a Maquis ship? Someday he'd have to tell her how often he found mushroom soup waiting for him in his quarters, compliments of one member of the crew or another and followed soon enough by a request for a special favor or indulgence. Seska had been the worst about it, but there were others that were just as crafty.

"Door codes. Personal log codes. My crew doesn't trust you yet, Captain, although with time they will. In the meantime, they might think it valuable to read your personal logs or snoop around in your quarters while you're busy on the bridge." He gave her a small smile. "They might try to gain special privileges by doing favors for you. Like sending you coffee, once they realize that's all you ever use your replicator rations for."

She'd let the teasing comment pass, unwilling, as yet, to joke with him on personal matters, but the wheels were turning in her head as she considered his words, and he'd realized that she did understand exactly what he was talking about. He'd made a mental note not to underestimate her again. "You don't trust your own crew?" she'd asked at last, relaxing slightly.

"Let's just say that the recruitment standards for the Maquis are much different than for Starfleet. There are members of my crew I don't trust. But I know who they are, and I can handle them."

She'd shaken her head. "Tuvok thinks you may be plotting something."

"Against you?" He'd chuckled. "Tuvok is wrong. I already have a level nine clearance, Captain. I don't need your personal door code to stage a mutiny." She'd paled slightly as she realized the truth of his statement. "Besides, you can always access my personal logs if you doubt my reliability. No one really has any privacy from the ship's captain." He'd stood there a moment, letting his comment sink in. As captain, she could override his own privacy codes or anyone else's any time she deemed it necessary for the ship's safety. Turn about was fair play, as the old saying went. He continued, "I can help you devise a more secure door code, if you'd like."

She'd narrowed her eyes, her competitive juices flowing. He was discovering that he loved the challenge of talking to her. "I'm quite capable of protecting my own privacy, Commander."

His eyes had sparkled with delight. "Want to make a bet?"

"Wha-at?" In their first few weeks as a command team, he'd been careful to follow protocol to the letter. But, it was going to be a long time before they were home, and he thought they needed to establish a better rapport, maybe even, at times, a relaxed friendship. Eventually.

He'd grinned at her, counting on the usual female response to his dimples to soften her mood. "I promise never to walk in on you uninvited, of course. But, I assure you, I can break any door code you care to devise."

For the first time, he'd seen the left corner of her mouth twitch in amusement, and the sight had delighted him. He had hoped she would have a sense of humor, a need for fun. "I seriously doubt that."

He'd grinned again, genuinely pleased. "Once in awhile then, when you least expect it, I'll open your door for you."

She'd studied his face, and he knew she was reminding herself that she had no choice but to trust him, had to accept with complete confidence that he wouldn't abuse the power and authority she'd already given him. Like it or not, they were a team. If they were to work together smoothly, she had to believe in his loyalty and reliability.

"You're on." She'd laughed then, relaxing for the first time in days, a look of playfulness in her eyes that he came to treasure over the years. "I've already changed the code, of course. Let's see if you break it in the next thirty days."

He'd winked. "It won't take that long."

A week or so later they'd left the bridge following a particularly grueling day, a day when they had both begun to comprehend the daunting challenge that faced them. They'd exited the lift on deck three, talking very little as they'd trudged down the passageway, stopping together briefly in front of her quarters to say goodnight.

This was the time, he'd realized.

"Allow me," he'd said, tapping a code into the wall panel. The doors had slid smoothly open and he'd continued down the hall to his own door. Once there, he'd turned to find her eying him with surprise and admiration. "Captain?"

"I'm impressed, Commander. I just changed that code two days ago." She broke into a grin so bright that it had warmed his heart. "Perhaps I've underestimated you."

From then on, when she'd least expected it or when she'd needed a laugh, he'd open her door for her with a wicked grin. He didn't always have the code ready, of course, and found her an increasingly challenging opponent, but it had been a game that had delighted them both.

The elevator deposited him on the eighth floor and he quickly made his way down the hallway to Suite 818, pausing outside the door to listen for sounds from inside. It was possible, of course, that she wasn't alone, that one of the many men the newsvids had shown her with in the last four months would be with her, but he doubted it. If Joanna Archer was Kathryn, she was there alone.

He tapped the door chime, only to be informed that the occupant did not wish to be disturbed. He studied the security pad, thinking of the probable codes she would use, deciding she would settle on the last code she'd used Voyager. He hesitated only a second before he tapped the code into the security device.

To be continued . . .


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Paramount rules. I'm just playing with their dolls.

Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. J/C Post-Endgame

Undeniable

By Mizvoy

Chapter 4 (Chronologically)

September 15, 2378 (four months after Voyager's return)

Mark Hopkins Intergalactic Hotel 2300 hours

Chakotay was not surprised when the code worked and the door to suite 818 opened.

Before he had time to consider the consequences of his actions, he stepped into the near-total darkness of the suite, the door swishing shut behind him. He waited patiently for his eyes to adjust to the sudden decrease in light, soon realizing that low level safety lights along the floor allowed him to see large objects and fixtures, but little else. Listening intently for sounds that might indicate Kathryn's location, he heard nothing and feared that she might not be there at all.

He stood in a short hallway. To his right was a miniature galley with a replicator, a stasis unit, and a tiny dinette table. He smiled to himself, trying to imagine why they would bother with a table so small that it could hold nothing more than two mugs of coffee. To his left was a wall that was two mirrored sliding closet doors, probably hiding the clothes 'fresher and a coat closet. In front of him, at the end of the hall, was the living area with huge windows along the far wall that took in the view of San Francisco. That is, there would be a view, he thought, except that the fog had obliterated it.

He walked to the end of the hall and stopped. In front of him was a loveseat with loose pillows that faced the windows and on either end of the sofa were overstuffed chairs that enclosed a square coffee table on three sides. Between the table and the windows was a white wool throw rug. He glanced into the room and saw a few items strewn on the table, but little else. A glance over his left shoulder revealed that the comm system had not been activated.

"Kathryn?" Silence.

He circled the chair on his left, stopping at the table to pick up the half empty bottle of bourbon, a little surprised to think that she would drink anything stronger than wine. She'd complained when Neelix's fruit compotes were a little two fermented and had never chanced the punch at a party for fear that Tom Paris had spiked it. But half a bottle of bourbon? Unless she had brought a bourbon drinker with her, he couldn't help but feel more concerned about her condition.

Then he noticed the unlabeled hypospray. He put down the bottle and hefted the hypospray in his hand, wondering what kind of drug it contained. Was it an analgesic for her frequent headaches? Or perhaps the "morning after" drug, interpropaline, that was used to offset the alcohol? Or was it a sleeping medicine?

The thought of it made his blood run cold. Would she do that? Mix alcohol and drugs? He didn't want to believe she would, didn't want to think that she was capable of deliberately taking her own life, yet he vividly remembered the depression she'd experienced in the Delta Quadrant, the despair and guilt that had nearly suffocated her. He remembered her detachment and remoteness at their lunch a few weeks earlier. And he recalled the irresistible, restless worry he'd felt about her all day, his decision to travel across half the world in the middle of the night because he sensed she needed him.

"Kathryn?" he said again, circling the chair at the other end of the sofa as he headed toward the bedroom. "Kathryn! Are you in there?"

Because the curtain on the bedroom window was pulled, this room was much darker than the living room, lit only by a faint glow from the half-open bathroom door located at the far side of the room. As Chakotay stepped through the door, he heard a sigh and spied movement on the bed.

"Computer, lights!"

The lights were blinding in intensity, and Kathryn covered her eyes and then buried her face in the pillows with a groan.

Chakotay reacted quickly. "Lower lights to ten percent."

In the reduced glare, Kathryn rolled over to face him, her voice slurred by drink. "Chakotay? Is that you?"

He found himself kneeling beside her, brushing her tangled hair from her face. "It's me," he admitted, shuddering as the unmistakable aroma of bourbon overwhelmed him. "Kathryn, are you drunk?"

She nodded, and then put her hands to her temples as her head pounded. "I feel so ridiculous. I'm trying not to get sick, but the room keeps spinning."

"What's in this?" he asked, holding up the hypospray.

"If that's what was on the coffee table, it's interpropaline," she muttered, wishing she had the energy to snatch it out of his hands and use it at once. "Give me a dose before I throw up all over your shoes. Please?"

Grinning, he quickly verified the dosage and pressed the hypo into her neck. She relaxed into the pillows with a satisfied sigh, her nausea disappearing and the room no longer spinning. The drug wouldn't eliminate the intoxication completely, but it took care of the worst of the physical symptoms and greatly reduced the impact of the alcohol still in her system. "Feel better?"

"Much better. Thank you." She smiled up at him, her eyes clearer and her voice strong. "Although I feel as silly as a first year cadet."

"After all you've been through, I'm surprised you haven't done this before." He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Alcohol is the drug of choice for many people who are the victims of relentless stress."

"You're surprised I'm not an alcoholic? Thanks a lot," she quipped, glaring at him with a smile on her face. "What in the world are you doing here? I thought you were in Sweden."

"Tom and B'Elanna heard the rumors that the hearing was being scheduled for next week. Once they called to warn us, I just couldn't stop thinking that I should be here with you in case you found out the decisions early. I didn't want you to face that alone. So, here I am."

"In the middle of the night."

He smiled and shrugged. "It was the middle of the night when I left Sweden and it's still the middle of the night here. Such is the fun of travel when you're a lowly civilian."

Suddenly aware of her state of undress, Kathryn made sure the robe was secure before she pulled herself into a more vertical position, plumping a pillow behind her. "That's how you got to San Francisco. What I want to know is how you found me?"

"Ah, because you're in hiding. It wasn't that difficult. You told me that you and Mark used to stay right here in San Francisco using fake names, remember? I saw the Mark Hopkins sticking up through the fog as the shuttle landed and decided to start looking for you here. Lucky break."

"And, of course," she said, her eyes twinkling, "you figured out my door code."

He smiled, and the sight of his dimples made her pulse jump. "Too easy, really. Using your last codes from Voyager was a predictable choice on your part, in light of the situation."

She chuckled, closing her eyes. She was feeling better physically, but the emotional swings would be the last to disappear; the last thing she needed was another crying jag like the one she'd had earlier. "Well, the rumors were right about the hearing. And I did receive an advance draft of the decision."

He inhaled quickly. "And?"

"It's pretty much everything we'd hoped for. The Maquis are pardoned. The Equinox survivors receive a general discharge. Tom's sentence is commuted. Seven's Federation citizenship is restored. Everyone's free. The crew can all go on with their lives without fear."

She couldn't remember seeing him with a happier grin on his face, but then his eyes clouded. "And the captain?"

"They're going to continue to review some of my decisions, but I'm not worried about it. I'm sure I'll escape without a court martial."

His eyes flared with anger. "Kathryn, if they try to court martial you for anything, I swear I'll . . . ."

"Oh, no, don't say it," she warned him, sitting up and putting her fingers over his mouth to stop the torrent of words. "You aren't my angry warrior any more."

When she saw his eyes widen with surprise, she wished she could take back her words. Here they were, sitting on a king sized bed, she was wearing nothing but a terrycloth robe, no one in the quadrant was aware of their location, and she mentioned the one moment in their relationship that had been the most intimate and provocative. All the feelings she'd felt from earlier in the day, from that moment of realization that it was Chakotay she dreamed of, came pouring over her again and tears formed in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Chakotay," she choked, snatching her hand away. "I shouldn't have said that."

"I'm still in your corner," he insisted, reaching for her hand and holding it in both of his. "That will never change, Kathryn. I promised I'd always help you, always lighten your burden, and I will, no matter what."

"I know you will, and you have. You've been the best." She gave his hand a squeeze and turned the conversation toward the crew. They spent an hour or more talking about each Maquis and Equinox member, considering the best options open to them now that their futures had been decided. They both felt relieved to talk things out with each other, to be able to look beyond Voyager and into the future. They even speculated on the Starfleet crew, where their careers would take them, which would go on to greatness and which would simply disappear into the ranks.

They tried not to dwell on the fact that this would be their last collaboration, that they would never have reason to work together so closely again.

At long last, she pulled away, suddenly feeling exhausted and fighting a strange feeling of despair. Her head dropped back and her eyes closed. "Oh, Chakotay, I'm so tired."

He picked her up and turned down the bed, settling her into the mattress, pulling the covers over her, and smoothing her hair away from her face. She looked so small in the huge bed that he felt the familiar irresistible urge to protect her. The interpropaline took time to work, and then sometimes required a second dose to completely reverse the affects of the alcohol. If she'd really drunk all that bourbon, he might need to stay with her just in case she needed more medicine.

He glanced around the room, trying to decide whether he should curl up on the other side of the bed or find another, more private spot for sleep. The sofa was much too short for him, but he could curl up on the flokati rug in front of the coffee table. There had to be an extra blanket in one of the closets, and the bed had at least two pillows he could borrow.

He looked down and noticed that her eyes were open, a small smile on her face as she realized his dilemma. "It's a big bed, Chakotay. You can sleep on the other side and I won't even know you're there."

He smirked. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Who'll ever know? I'm too tired and intoxicated to do anything anyway. Sleep on top of the covers, if you don't trust me! You'll be lucky to find a room anywhere nearby at this hour of the night, and you must be dead on your feet from the time change, not to mention the travel itself."

"I am tired," he admitted, hesitating only briefly. The image of Seven appeared in his mind, but he was sure she would understand his need to stay with the captain and monitor her condition. She'd always accepted and even shared in his special closeness to Kathryn Janeway. "You have a point. Go on to sleep."

Chakotay stepped into the bathroom where he found the tub still full of water, now ice cold, and a glass on the floor that was half filled with melted ice and smelled faintly of bourbon. He pulled the drain on the tub and put the glass on the counter before he placed a hand on either side of the sink and studied his face in the mirror. He tried to calculate how long it had been since he'd last slept, shuddering when he realized that it must have been nearly forty-eight hours. No wonder he was punchy. Now that he knew Kathryn was fine and that the crew was free, he simply wanted to curl up and go to sleep for about ten hours.

He checked the bathroom's linen closet, pulled out the hotel's complimentary pajamas, and then hurried through his pre-sleep routine. He'd never seen his former captain as vulnerable, as feminine, as human as she'd been tonight. The sight of her curled up in the bed, her face swollen from tears, had broken his heart. Why hadn't she called him? Why did she always try to do everything all alone, no matter how difficult or emotionally challenging the task was?

He'd just stretched out on the quilted spread and was shaking out an extra blanket over his legs when Kathryn slipped out of bed, clutching the robe around her. "My turn," she said as she disappeared unsteadily into the bathroom.

Chakotay closed his eyes and listened to her move around in the next room, comforted by the familiar sounds and smells of a woman preparing for bed, remembering their days together on New Earth. He realized how much he missed this everyday intimacy with Seven. Her physiology required no such "maintenance," as she called it, and because they lived separately, there was no toothbrush by the sink, no flowery smell of perfume or bath soaps, no hairspray or gels, no damp panties drying on the shower rod.

Most nights Seven returned to her apartment or to her university office instead of staying with him. In fact, she found the human need for extended periods of sleep a waste of precious time, sometimes accusing him of laziness when he slept for more than six hours at a stretch. She needed, on average, only three hours of regeneration for every twenty-four-hour period, usually choosing to stay in her alcove for a six-hour stint every forty-eight hours. The cycle of their days never really meshed, and Chakotay missed the intimate everyday moments of sharing his life with a woman

Kathryn emerged from the bath in a white cotton gown and slid between the sheets. "Tomorrow morning," she said into the darkness, "we'll read the decision together and decide if it's really the good news I think it is. Then we'll work out what to do next, okay?"

"Just don't make it too early in the morning."

"No chance of that. Good night, Chakotay."

"Goodnight." She was instantly asleep, judging from her deep, steady breathing, and he was comforted to have her so close to him. It was at times like these that he remembered how very human Kathryn Janeway was, how very much a woman.

To him, sleeping together was a symbolic act of trust, a physical emblem of the intimate connection between two individuals, as treasured as the act of love itself. Kathryn sighed and snuggled deeper into her pillows, turning slightly to face him. He reached over and pulled the blanket over her shoulders, studying her face in the dim light. She was still as beautiful to him as she had ever been, both physically and spiritually, a woman whose sincerity and nobility called out to his soul. He repressed an urge to pull her close and cuddle her, afraid that the closeness would turn into something irrepressible.

She's the captain, he reminded himself as he rolled away from her and closed his eyes, and nothing is going to happen. In spite of his exhaustion, he found he couldn't sleep with Kathryn just inches away, found himself turning again to watch her sleep, to listen to her breathe. After about an hour, he got up and made a nest of the furniture cushions in the living room, finally dozing off well after midnight.

What happened during the night hours seemed more like a dream than reality when he thought about it later. In fact, when he awakened in the bed the next day, with rain pattering against the window and Kathryn's side of the bed empty, he was momentarily embarrassed to think that he might have dreamt of making love to her while she was fast asleep just inches away. There were tell-tale signs, though, that he hadn't been dreaming, unmistakable physical evidence of intimate relations as he crawled out of bed and headed for the shower.

He could hear her voice as she talked on the comm link in the next room and could smell the inevitable aroma of fresh coffee; she hadn't disappeared completely. And then, when he'd emerged from the bedroom fully dressed, Kathryn had refused to look him in the eye for the first time in years. He knew then that the lovemaking had been no dream.

"Good morning," he said. He wandered through the kitchenette, pouring himself a mug of the coffee, and then took the PADD that she held out toward him as she kept her eyes glued to the comm link. "Are you feeling better this morning?"

"I'm fine, thanks," she said, in her usual noncommittal, don't-mess-with-me tone of voice. He realized that she was in full denial, and he stood two feet away waiting for her to look up at him and at least acknowledge his presence. She finally glanced at him briefly out of the corner of her eye. "What?" she demanded.

"Nothing." This was not the time to force the issue, he decided. He activated the PADD and sat down on the sofa, noticing that the furniture had been put back together and his "bed" disassembled. The blanket he'd used was neatly folded on the floor by the window, and the two bed pillows were stacked on top. She'd been up for awhile, he realized, no doubt trying to explain away what had happened between them, trying to make herself believe it was a meaningless accident.

The draft decision was quick reading and exactly what Kathryn had summarized the night before, including the veiled threat of further recourse against her if and when the admiralty decided to do so. However, she'd also been correct about the unlikelihood of such an outcome based on the vague language they'd used. The Voyager experience was truly coming to an end.

"This is all good news," he said, setting the device on the table and picking up his coffee. "You probably need something to eat."

"No, thanks, but help yourself," she replied, still not looking up from her work.

Chakotay wasn't happy with her response. "You've already eaten breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry."

He narrowed his eyes. He couldn't let her get away with this withdrawal. "You didn't answer the question."

"I beg your pardon?" Now she was looking at him. With annoyance.

He'd lived through worse. "Saying you're not hungry doesn't answer the question of whether you've eaten breakfast or not."

"I disagree."

"Fine. Disagreement noted. Now, answer the question."

She turned slightly in the desk chair. "It's only logical that the reason I'm not hungry is because I've already eaten, Chakotay."

"Logical, yes, unless you're Kathryn Janeway, who can go days without eating and still deny being hungry."

The expression on her face moved quickly from annoyance to anger. "What do you mean by that?" she demanded.

"I checked. The only thing replicated in this suite in the last twenty-four hours is this coffee." He held up his mug as he turned to look at her. "And you don't cook."

Her eyes flashed. "Whether I've eaten or not, Chakotay, is none of your business. I'm not hungry. Period. End of story."

"You need to get something in your stomach besides bourbon and coffee or you'll end up with an ulcer." He stood up and headed for the kitchen. "I'll fix you some scrambled eggs and toast. Or maybe oatmeal."

"Damn it!" She stood up, trembling with indignation, and pushed the desk chair away with such violence that it crashed against the wall and fell over. "I don't appreciate being called and liar, and I don't need you to mother me, Chakotay."

He walked to her, saw the tears in her eyes, and gripped her by the shoulders. This temper wasn't about eating, of course, but about the intimacy of the night before. "Yes, you do need me to mother you. You need someone to help you, Kathryn, whether you want to admit it or not."

She stared at him, her mouth open, and then wilted into his arms, her head on his shoulder, her body suddenly limp with nervous exhaustion and a hangover that had come back full force in spite of the interpropaline he'd given her the night before. "I'm sorry, Chakotay. I can't do anything right lately."

Chakotay led her across the room and propped her gently on the sofa. He made a quick trip back to the bedroom for the hypospray and then went to the kitchen where he replicated a bowl of cinnamon apple oatmeal. Perching on the coffee table, he gave her a second dose of the interpropaline and then watched her hungrily devour every bite of the cereal, in spite of her previous protestations.

"Thanks," she said, giving him a weak smile. "I guess I was hungry after all."

"You're welcome." He carried their dishes into the kitchen where he took an inordinate amount of time cleaning up, deliberately giving Kathryn some time alone to let the medicine work and to get over her anger with herself. There was a big storm on the horizon, he knew, but not until they were both ready for it. By the time he left the kitchen, she'd fallen fast asleep, so he covered her with the blanket and collapsed into the chair to watch her and to think.

So, it hadn't been a dream. Giving up on sleeping in the bed, he'd crept from the bedroom and made a "nest" on the flokati, a pile of cushions that reminded him of his childhood when his large family descended on relatives and the kids made pallets on the floor. The bed was quite comfortable when he'd stretched out on it, eyeing the comm link on the corner desk. He'd considered calling Seven to tell her where he was, but he was too tired to move. He'd call her later in the day, after he'd caught up on some much needed sleep, and tell her that he'd found the captain and that everything was going to be all right.

They'd both been right about Kathryn, he'd realized. As Seven had predicted, she had decided to retreat and read the decision privately, to steel herself for whatever the future demanded. But she'd also reacted emotionally to the situation at long last, and Chakotay was glad to see her do so. She was a forty-two year old senior captain in Starfleet, not a kid experimenting with booze, yet he was relieved to see her indulge her feelings after so many years of repressing them. And he was fairly sure that this was just the beginning. Once she gave up that iron-clad control of her emotions, she might very well be overwhelmed by them for awhile. He'd encourage her to open up to her counselors, to let them help her work through her feelings.

Because he was tired beyond exhaustion, he had drifted into a fitful sleep full of disturbing, fragmented images from his years on Voyager. He tossed and turned on the floor, groaning as moments of disaster and loss flitted through his mind. Through it all, he could hear the captain's voice. So many times, the sound of her voice over the comm link had signaled the end of the crisis, the arrival of the cavalry, the calm sanity of command in the midst of chaos. How many times had her voice brought with it a feeling of relief, of safety, and of home?

He'd opened his eyes, thinking he'd actually heard her voice calling his name, but unsure whether it was simply part of his dreams. The room had seemed surreal because of the dim lighting and from his odd angle on the floor, and he'd struggled for a few moments to remember where he was. Then he heard her voice again, muffled and indistinct, and he heard the unmistakable sound of heartbreaking, despondent sobs coming from the open door of the bedroom.

He'd stood up, incoherent with sleep, and stumbled to the door where he found Kathryn sprawled across the bed, her face buried in the pillows as she cried her heart out.

"Kathryn?" He'd stepped into the room and crawled across the bed to stretch out beside her, gently placing a hand on her back. "Kathryn, what's happened? Did you have a bad dream?"

She'd rolled over, her face streaked with tears. "You weren't here," she'd said, reaching out a trembling hand and touching his face. "I had a nightmare, and when I woke up, you were gone."

"I was just in the next room," he'd said, pulling her into his arms. "I haven't left you. And it was only a dream. Nothing bad has happened."

"I thought I'd walked out of my quarters on Voyager only to discover that I was completely alone. The entire crew had found a way home, but had forgotten to take me with them."

He'd smiled at her tenderly, brushing her hair from her eyes. "I would never have let that happen, Kathryn. I would never leave you behind."

She'd returned the smile, tears brimming in her eyes. "Oh, Chakotay, do you know how much I need you? Can I ever thank you for everything you've done for me?"

He'd shaken his head. "I'm the one who owes you the debt of gratitude. You're the one who got us home. You're the one who believed in me."

"I couldn't have done any of it without you," she'd admitted, burying her face in his neck. "Chakotay, I'm losing everything that matters to me—the ship, the crew, my purpose for living. What am I going to do now?"

"You'll have important work to do," he'd promised, although he felt a similar panic about the future. "And you won't be alone. You'll have a new crew to take care of."

"It won't be the same," she'd disagreed. "They'll never be a family like we were on Voyager. I'll never love them the way I do you." She'd looked up at him in gratitude and their eyes had locked, their faces so close that their breaths mingled, and he'd experienced a surge of desire that he could no longer resist. He'd pulled her body against his, and when she'd brushed her lips against his, the inevitable had happened. There had been no time for reflection, no thought of anyone or anything else as their passion found its natural outlet and their joining seared their souls. They'd fallen asleep in each other's arms, exhausted and sated and intimately tangled in the sheets. But he'd awakened alone.

The memory clear in his mind, he opened his eyes to find Kathryn watching him from the sofa, her eyes dark with pain and sorrow and hopelessness. She made a face and looked away, eaten up with guilt. They had to talk this out, he realized, or their friendship would never survive.

"It really happened," he said softly. "It wasn't a dream."

"No, it wasn't a dream." She rose from the sofa and knelt in front of him, obviously tormented with remorse for what had happened. "But, we have to forget about it, Chakotay. It was a moment of weakness, that's all. Two close friends who went too far in comforting each other. Nothing more."

He wanted to disagree, to tell her that he'd dreamt of holding her, fantasized about making love to her for seven long years. Last night, for him, had not been a dream, but a dream come true. "It was more than nothing to me."

Her eyes narrowed. "What about Seven? Are you going to tell her about this?"

"I don't know."

"We're not going to hurt her!" She stood up and put her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing with determination. "I refuse to let that happen."

"You can't order me to stop loving you, Kathryn."

"Can't I?" She began to pace. "That wasn't 'love' last night, Chakotay, as much as a simple physical release of tension."

He felt helpless to sway her, yet he refused to let her limit the parameters of his feelings any longer. "It was love to me."

"It would never have happened," she said, her voice soft with barely restrained anger, "if I hadn't gotten drunk."

He looked up at her and shook his head in disbelief. "And so you want to pretend that it had no meaning."

"I'm telling you, Chakotay, that as far as I'm concerned, it never happened."

He wanted to accuse her of lying, but knew better than to accuse her of that and risk her fury. They had to get through the next week together, and they would never last if they were at each other's throats. He sighed. "If you say so."

"I do say so, Chakotay." She softened slightly and for a moment he thought she might admit the truth. Instead, she smiled wistfully and resumed her pacing, jabbing the air with her hand as she talked, moving them away from the uncomfortable disagreement and toward their plans for the next week. As had happened so many times on Voyager, she'd turned into his commanding officer again, and he listened to her orders intently, in some ways grateful to have this practiced, comfortable, carefully controlled relationship to escape into.

He listened as she brought him up to speed on what she'd accomplished that morning, how she had put into action the final days of their teamwork, how she had once again repressed her tumultuous feelings in favor of action. In spite of her determination to forget about their night together, Chakotay sensed that their relationship had been permanently changed, that the repercussions of their passion would not be as easily put aside as Kathryn thought.

He worried about what would happen next, that their friendship would not survive this latest dishonesty. He worried about how Kathryn would handle her continued refusal to acknowledge her feelings. He worried that Seven of Nine would sense a change in his feelings and blame herself as being inadequate, unlovable, or unacceptable.

"Admiral Hayes has agreed to send the summonses out as soon as possible and has moved the hearing up to Tuesday afternoon, so we need to get organized right away. I'll take care of the reception, including the catering, and you take care of providing transport and getting everyone appropriate quarters." She looked at him expectantly, resorting to rank for the first time in weeks. "Commander, are you listening?"

"Aye, Captain," he murmured, feeling as if his heart would break in two.

To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Paramount rules. I'm just playing with their dolls.

Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. J/C Post-Endgame

Undeniable

by Mizvoy

Chapter 5 (Chronologically)

May 16, 2379 (One year anniversary of Voyager's return) 1900 hours

Starfleet Executive Conference Center, Monterey, California—Utopia Ballroom

"I'm so tired of the press," Captain Kathryn Janeway complained as she arrived at Voyager's first reunion and spied a cluster of photographers waiting outside the building's entrance. She resented their presence here, wanting to have the crew to herself, to be able to be herself after a long year of personal appearances, welcome home banquets, and interviews. "How long are they staying?"

"Just an hour, Kathryn. Now smile." Captain Randall Wingate helped her out of the limousine and guided her toward the doors of the facility with a hand in the small of her back. As they walked, he addressed the paparazzi who were snapping photos from behind the rope barriers and shouting questions at them, "No comments tonight, people. Pictures only."

Janeway stepped into the relative quiet of the ballroom's foyer, relieved to know that only the Starfleet historian would be taking pictures from this point on, and only for another hour. She made a face at her escort as he closed the doors behind him.

"Randy, I don't know how you put up with that chaos day in and day out." Janeway shrugged off her overcoat and handed it to the attendant. "They're like piranha on a feeding frenzy."

"But they're after you, not me, remember? You're the celebrity. I'm just the lowly public affairs officer."

"I hope you get hazardous duty pay," she joked, leading him across the marble floor toward the ballroom's double doors. "I think we're late enough to make a dramatic entrance, don't you?"

He smiled, pulling the heavy door open for her, "Hail the conquering heroine!"

The dance music stopped as they entered, and then quickly shifted to the Starfleet anthem. Dancers paused in mid-step and other attendees turned as one toward the door as the emcee announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome Captain Kathryn Janeway!"

Wingate stepped aside as Janeway entered the room and stopped on the landing above the dance floor where she smiled and waved at members of her former crew and their companions throughout the room. She noticed, in dismay, the admirals who awaited her arrival at the head table and realized that her true reunion with the crew would happen much later, after dinner, after the dignitaries left. Meanwhile, the Starfleet reporter crouched in front of her, her camera catching Janeway's every movement.

"Please, don't stop the music," she cried, gesturing to the band, a brilliant smile lighting her face. "Keep dancing. Carry on."

At a table on the far side of the room, Tom Paris turned to his wife. "She's with that public affairs guy again, isn't she?"

"Wingate. Captain Randy Wingate. Her most recent companion," B'Elanna Torres nodded. "She says he's a really nice guy and a big help handling the press that always seems to follow her around. Easy on the eyes, too. You didn't expect her to continue her celibate ways once we got home, did you?"

Paris snorted. "She wasn't exactly celibate out there, B'Elanna. I always wondered about that Devore inspector. And then there was Michael Sullivan from Fair Haven. The one that got drunk and yelled for Katie O'Clare from the treetops. And, she didn't waste any time on Quarra." Tom shook his head and grinned, remembering those days as a bartender as carefree and fun. "She and Jaffen hit the bar every night after work and were all over each other from day one. I don't think they'd dated more than a couple of weeks before she moved in with him. I was surprised she didn't ask him to come along with us."

"Kashyk was a snake, Tom, and Michael Sullivan was a hologram. And Jaffen? A single two-week relationship in seven years is pretty close to celibate, if you ask me."

Paris shrugged and began stacking the creamer packets from the center of the table into a perfect pyramid. "I'm just saying that, celibate or not, she's probably more passionate than any of us can imagine. She seems cool and detached on duty, but underneath that professional façade beats the heart of a real hot woman."

"Down, boy. All I meant was that we shouldn't begrudge her a boyfriend, especially someone as nice as Captain Wingate." She looked up to see Harry Kim approaching with a huge plate of steamed shrimp from the buffet table. "Look, Harry brought us the whole platter of shrimp!"

"Very funny," Harry said, sitting down next to Tom. "You were talking about Captain Wingate and Janeway? I saw the captain last month when I stopped by her office for a quick hello. I was about to invite her to lunch when Wingate and Admiral Harridan came by to take her to a luncheon in the head shed with Admirals Hayes, Rogers, and T'Nang. They looked like pretty close friends to me. She's breathing rarefied air these days."

"Harridan? Wasn't he the command track member on her debriefing team?" B'Elanna wondered. "I remember they spent a lot of extra time together. But I can't imagine her getting stuck up about it."

Paris shook his head as he sneaked a shrimp from Harry's plate. "She grew up surrounded by high ranking officers, just like I did. It's just part of the job to her. She never forgets their rank, of course, but she considers them people just like the rest of us. No better, no worse."

"Sure," Kim said, licking shrimp sauce off of his fingers. "But look at the crowd she's associating with—admirals, ambassadors, diplomats. You don't see her sitting down here with the peons, do you? Next month, once she and Wingate are promoted, just think about all the perks they'll have—personal aides, shuttles, transport pads in their quarters." He frowned as Tom stole a second shrimp. "You know that rank has its privileges."

"Yeah, well," Paris argued, tossing the empty shrimp shell back onto his friend's plate. "What they fail to mention is that rank also has its responsibilities and duties, twenty-four/seven. I know how hard my dad works, the hours he puts in, the family time he's sacrificed over the years. The luxuries aren't worth the price, in my book."

"You have a point," Torres agreed. "Think about Janeway's life on Voyager, for example. She was the big kahuna. She had the plushest quarters, the best office, the most flexible work schedule. But I wouldn't have traded places with her for a million credits. She was lonely and isolated, and she routinely put in more hours in a day than the rest of us did." She pushed Paris's pyramid over and chuckled at his growl.

"Of course, nobody would choose to command a starship 70,000 light years from home," Kim agreed, sliding his plate out of Tom's reach with a playful laugh. "I'm just glad that she's getting promoted. Nobody deserves it more. And as for Wingate and Harridan? If either one of them breaks her heart, well, he'll have to answer to me."

"I feel the same way, Harry, but I wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't the one who's breaking hearts." Paris glanced at Chakotay and Seven, who'd listened to the interchange from the other side of the table without comment. "So, what do you guys think? Are these guys good enough for our captain?"

There was a long period of silence before Seven said, "The captain has always shown an ability to judge people's character well. I doubt that she would become involved with an individual who would be unworthy of her affection."

"Well," Paris laughed, "she certainly stuck her neck out on you and things worked out okay. Eventually." He looked from her to Chakotay. "The same could be said for you, Commander. Not many captains would've made a Maquis her first officer. She took a big gamble on you."

"And you, Tom, when she put you at the helm," Chakotay answered, a small grin on his face. But, his eyes were guarded and, beneath the table, his hands were in tight fists. He was never comfortable with this below decks speculation about the captain, but, then, he was no longer her first officer and had no reason to intervene. "She believed in all of us, trusted us no matter how much we screwed up or what we'd done in the past." He looked over at Janeway, who was being escorted by Wingate to her seat at the head table, right between Admirals Hayes and Necheyev. "I simply want her to be happy."

"Well, that's it, in the long run," Torres agreed, her voice filled with affection. "I hope to God she's happy."

Later, once the admirals had left and the party became less formal, Janeway began to systematically work the room, moving from table to table and spending time with as many of Voyager's crew as possible. It was nearly midnight by the time she reached the last table, the one shared by her senior staff, and she was obviously tired.

"Is there room for me to sit down for awhile?" she asked them, glancing from face to face. "My feet are killing me."

Harry Kim leaped from his seat and pulled out a chair, but Paris just grinned. "It's the heels on those boots, Captain. If you'd just admit that you're short, your feet wouldn't hurt so much." Torres, who happened to be exactly the captain's height, gave him a swift elbow. "Ow!"

Everyone at the table froze, waiting for the captain's scathing retort, but they were amazed to see her smile, enjoying her former crew's teasing. "I don't wear the boots because I'm vain, Tom," she replied, her eyes twinkling with good humor. "I'm perfectly aware of being 'height challenged.' It's just that I prefer to have sore feet instead of a permanent cramp in my neck from looking up at you tall guys!"

They laughed, and then B'Elanna asked about her recent trip to Vulcan.

"Tuvok's procedure is finally working," she reported, her face serious. "His disease was much further along than he let on, so it's taken a full year to bring him around. But his recovery will be complete. He said to tell all of you hello and thank you for your messages of support."

Harry Kim shook his head. "I wish he could've come tonight."

"Next year," Janeway assured them. "He promised to be here next year."

She spent the next hour with them, laughing at jokes and enjoying their company. It was like old times, like the best of the old times, and the affection between them was completely restored. After one particularly funny remark from Tom Paris, Janeway wiped tears from her eyes and said, "God, I've needed this. I miss you all so much. I miss your irreverent senses of humor."

"We thought maybe you preferred admirals to us lower ranks these days, Captain," Harry said. Although he was trying to sound flippant, there was an unmistakable disappointment in his voice that she didn't miss.

She sat up then, her eyes flashing with anger and distress, and everyone tensed. "I hope you don't mean that, Harry. My Voyager crew is like a family to me. I thought you knew that, but if you don't, let me make it clear now. No one in the galaxy means more to me than you." She looked around the table and into the eyes of every person present. "Never doubt that. I want you to contact me whenever you're in San Francisco or whenever you need to talk. If you need help with an assignment or a training course, you can count on my support. I mean that."

They nodded, sorry that the relaxed banter seemed to have evaporated. They were suddenly aware of how noisy the room was becoming as the evening grew later and people prepared to leave. Captain Wingate appeared at Janeway's elbow. "Let me know when you're ready to go, Kathryn, and I'll have the car brought around for you."

"Thanks, Randy," she said absently, glancing up at him. "Not just yet." She suddenly remembered her manners. "You know everyone here, don't you? My senior staff from Voyager?" At his nod, she said, "Captain Randy Wingate, everyone." They murmured a reply.

"I've got some messages I need to answer, so I'll be in the office off the foyer. Just call me when you're ready," Wingate said, stepping back. "Nice to see all of you again."

Once he left, B'Elanna said, "Seems like a nice guy."

"Yes. A very nice guy." Janeway's eyes remained unfocused. She took a deep breath and turned to Chakotay, who'd remained unusually quiet throughout the evening, preferring to sit and hold Seven's hand rather than work the room as his former captain had done. "No wedding plans yet?"

"Seven still refuses to talk about it," he replied, glancing at the beautiful blond sitting beside him. "I think she has cold feet."

"My feet are perfectly warm, thank you," Seven replied, giving him a stern look as everyone chuckled.

"Well, if you want me to attend, make sure it isn't near the end of the year. Looks like I'll be in the Gamma Quadrant by January."

Chakotay's eyes narrowed. "You've been given a deep space assignment."

"Rumor has it that I'll be given command of the fleet exploring the other side of the Bajoran worm hole. It's the job I've been jockeying for."

"A promotion, then," Chakotay said. "You'll be an admiral."

"Yes. I won't actually have a ship of my own, of course. I'll have several ships reporting to me and use one as my flagship." The table was silent as the others imagined Kathryn Janeway in space without them. Without Voyager.

"Will you miss next year's reunion, then?" Torres asked.

"Probably. The next big one, like this, isn't scheduled until the fifth year any way, although I imagine some of you will have an informal get-together somewhere every year." She looked down at the table. "This isn't the day I like to celebrate, anyway."

Kim was surprised. "How can you not celebrate the day we arrived home?"

She looked up. "For me, the whole ordeal ended several months later. I plan to celebrate the day I found out that the crew was free, that none of us would be prosecuted or spend a minute in prison. September 15th. That's the day for me. And I bet that most of you have other dates that are just as special, or maybe more so, than today."

"How do you plan to celebrate, Kathryn?" Chakotay asked. "Throw a big party?"

She laughed. "Nothing like this, I assure you. I want to spend the weekend just as I did when I found out the news last year. A secluded hotel. A bottle of champagne. Soft music. Room service. And a bathtub with plenty of hot water and jasmine bubble bath."

"With whom, I wonder?" Paris teased, leaning toward her with a wink as he glanced toward the foyer. "Anyone we know?"

Before she could reply, a few members of the crew approached them, wanting to tell Janeway and the others goodbye as they left. The moment was lost and soon everyone was preparing to leave, gathering at the entrance in a gaggle as they waited for jackets to be found, transporters to become available, or vehicles to be retrieved from the parking lot.

Chakotay noticed that Janeway was standing apart in a hallway off of the foyer, watching the crew as they laughed and talked among themselves. They were busy hugging each other, exchanging comm addresses, setting up subsequent meetings, promising to keep in touch. As usual, she held herself slightly apart, always aware of her distant role as the captain.

Chakotay approached her. "You look tired," he said, taking her elbow and maneuvering her into a quiet corner where they could talk privately. "Are you all right?"

"I arrived from Vulcan not three hours before the party began. The heat and gravity there always wear me out, and then I spent three days straight on a runabout, sharing a cabin with a Bolian who never stopped talking. I'm a little tired, but I'll be better once I get a good night's sleep."

He smiled. Bolians were known for their incessant blabbering, and the quarters on a runabout were notoriously small. "Nothing could be worse than a talkative Bolian. How's Tuvok, really?"

"Better. They think he'll be fine soon." She looked away. Chakotay knew how guilty she felt about the Vulcan, how she felt responsible for the complications he'd endured. "If I'd known how much that neural suppressant would hurt him when we went to Unimatrix Zero, I would've taken someone else with me."

"Don't blame yourself, Kathryn. He doesn't."

She looked up at her former first officer with tears shimmering in her eyes. "He doesn't want to admit how much he misses being with the crew, but I could tell he misses us. Almost as much as I do." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm always more emotional when I'm tired."

"I miss us, too." He stood slightly closer, using his body to shield her from the rest of the crowd as he had so often shielded their private discussions on the bridge. "I got your messages."

"I got yours, too," she whispered, opening her eyes to smile up at him. "There were times when I thought I'd lose my mind if I didn't hear from you."

Through a mirror on the far wall, Chakotay saw Wingate step into the foyer and begin scanning the crowd for Janeway, ready to whisk her away for some much needed rest in one of the distinguished officer's cabins overlooking Monterey Bay. Chakotay wondered how long it might be before he saw her alone again.

"Kathryn," he said, leaning down to speak softly into her ear. "What you said about September 15th. Did you mean that?"

She turned her head slightly, their faces close, their breaths mingling. She was trembling at his nearness, her pulse pounding in her ears. "I hope to spend it the same way every year, Chakotay. Is that wrong of me? To want one day a year for myself?"

She looked up at him and their eyes locked. His voice was warm, "Kathryn, you know I'm the wrong person to ask."

Wingate walked up with Janeway's jacket, and Chakotay stepped away, putting much needed space between them. Even so, Wingate gave them an appraising look, as if trying to decide whether he should jump to conclusions about their relationship. They were close friends, he decided, having a personal conversation. In fact, Chakotay was her closest friend, and he might as well get used to it. "Ready to go?" he asked her, greeting Chakotay with a nod. "Our vehicle's blocking the circle."

"Yes, I'm ready." She slipped into the jacket and turned to Chakotay, keeping her back to Wingate so only Chakotay would hear her murmur, "Suite 818."

With that, she turned and left without looking back. Chakotay watched her leave, hoping that Seven hadn't observed his private chat with the captain. Even though she still struggled with human emotion and intimacy, Seven was quite adept at spotting it in others. And at this moment, his heart was singing with such happiness and joy that it had to show on his face.

Four months. He could wait that long. He had no choice.

To be continued . . .


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Paramount rules. I'm just playing with their dolls.

Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. J/C Post-Endgame

Undeniable

By Mizvoy

Chapter 6 (Chronologically)

May 17, 2379 (one year anniversary of Voyager's return)

Monterey Starfleet Compound--0230 hours

Chakotay felt guilty as the transporter beam wrapped Seven of Nine in its familiar blue sparkle, beaming her back to San Francisco to regenerate in the alcove that had been installed in her apartment. She looked miserable as she dematerialized, and Chakotay told himself that he should step onto the platform and follow her home, that he should give in to her original plans rather than deciding to remain behind on his own to attend the crew's impromptu family picnic later that day.

He was still staring at the empty transport pad when he heard the transporter technician stifle a yawn and then clear his throat. "Would you like for me to arrange transport back to your quarters, sir?" he asked. "They're predicting a hell of a storm. You might get drenched if you walk."

Chakotay shook his head, already losing the pleasant buzz from the margaritas at Chell's "after" party. "No thanks. I need the walk and the fresh air. And a cold shower wouldn't hurt, either."

"Suit yourself, sir," the young man said as he disappeared into the lounge area at the back of the station. "Have a pleasant evening."

As he made his way out of the building, Chakotay thought about his argument with Seven earlier that evening regarding his sudden change in plans. They'd only just arrived in Monterey when they learned about the family picnic scheduled for the next afternoon, and she had been unwilling to consider staying for it.

"We decided weeks ago that we would return to San Francisco following the formal reunion," she'd reminded him. "While the 'after' party, as you call it, is easily accommodated into our schedule, I cannot change my job interview at this late hour. If I'd anticipated this, I wouldn't have scheduled it for late tomorrow morning."

The fact that she'd done that without consulting him was another argument he'd lost the previous month. He'd suspected that something like this might happen, but Seven had claimed that her prospective employers were insisting on an interview that day. However, it wouldn't help anything to bring that up again, and so he'd moved on.

"We didn't realize then that so many of the crew would be extending their stay over the weekend or making plans for informal parties and get-togethers," he'd countered, irritated at her predictable objection to a more spontaneous or less structured approach to their plans and activities. There were times when he could almost hear her reluctantly erasing and rearranging her mental calendar because of unexpected "disruptions." "You can understand why I want to attend the family picnic being held at the beachfront park tomorrow, can't you? It's been eight months since we've seen most of these people."

Exasperated, she'd rolled her eyes. "The likelihood is that this picnic will be a disorganized free-for-all with very little appetizing food and miserable surroundings."

"That's the nature of picnics, Seven. Spreading a blanket on the ground. Eating food prepared at home or cooked over a fire. Being invaded by ants. Slapping mosquitoes."

She wasn't amused by his joke. "I don't understand your fascination with primitive conditions. The chances for food poisoning, sunburn, and injury are a few items I'd think you'd want to avoid."

Finally, he'd simply put his foot down. "I don't care if the picnic is a flop. The children will be there, and, if nothing else, I'll enjoy seeing them. I'm staying, Seven, and that's all there is to it."

She'd tried not to pout, but her voice sounded petulant nonetheless, "Should I attempt to reschedule my meeting and attend the picnic with you tomorrow? You seem conflicted about my need to leave."

"I'm not conflicted about it, Seven. I really do understand. I wish you could stay, that's all. I'm going to miss you." He took a deep breath. "I thought you'd want to see more of the crew, too."

"I will spend the entire evening with them. That will be enough." Her flat statement reminded him of how she'd been on Voyager, how she'd spent most of her time alone in astrometrics or in her alcove, only gradually increasing her social interaction to include time with members of the senior staff in the mess hall, playing velocity with the captain, or supervising Naomi and the Borg children. It was unfair of him to think that she missed these people as much as he did when she'd spent so little time interacting with them. She forged ahead, "Perhaps you've forgotten the importance of this interview?"

"No, Seven, I understand that you need to go back. And you need to regenerate before the interview tomorrow afternoon. Besides, a picnic on the beach is not your kind of party. The wind and sand would irritate your implants. I'll beam back tomorrow night and give you a call. Maybe we can go to Rigetto's for dinner? You can tell me then all about your interview."

She'd nodded and, to his relief, the momentary confrontation had passed. He'd made arrangements for lodging at the base housing center just before the reunion was scheduled to begin. Hours later, when the time had come for her to leave, they had walked hand-in-hand to the transporter station without another cross word. He'd thought she'd resigned herself to the situation until he'd seen the unhappiness on her face as she'd transported.

As he left the building, Chakotay stopped to observe the beautiful evening, glad to have some time to think as he made his way back to his room. The weather was breathtaking. Although there were stars directly overhead, the western sky was boiling with thunderclouds that the moonlight turned into beautiful sculptures occasionally lit from within by flashes of lightening. He strolled down the deserted street and past the darkened office buildings, noticing that the lights were still on in the ballroom, the whirr of cleaning equipment combining with the blaring music being played on the sound system.

Sitting down on a bench just outside the conference center, he decided to listen to the music for awhile, a series of jazzy upbeat numbers probably selected to keep the workers awake and moving in spite of the late hour. He thought back to the reunion and the nostalgia that had nearly suffocated him. He'd been aware of missing Voyager's crew, but he didn't realize just how much he missed them until he'd seen so many together again. Just as he'd thought he was over his homesickness, it had hit him harder than ever.

If the first moments of the reunion had been a shock to him, the captain's late arrival had doubled his misery. He'd been embarrassed at the way his throat had closed and his eyes had filled with tears when he saw her standing just inside the door, smiling and waving at the crew, looking just the same as she always had. The captain's presence had only served to increase the carnival atmosphere of the gathering and to deepen his gloom. Uncomfortable and out of sorts, he'd remained rooted to his seat, content to sit with Seven and greet those members of the crew that sought him out. He doubted that anyone noticed his silent retreat anyway. Except, maybe, the captain.

Soon after Kathryn's departure on Wingate's arm, he and Seven had joined the informal party being held at a meeting room in a nearby hotel, a typical lower-decks blowout hosted by Chell and a few other former Maquis. Tom and Harry had helped them prepare for the gathering, creating a twentieth century cocktail party complete with period music, nachos, tiny quiches, chocolate fondue, and something called buffalo wings, although, as Seven pointed out with an arched eyebrow, they were obviously taken from chickens, not buffalo.

Feeling much more at home than he had at the formal party, Chakotay relaxed and enjoyed himself for the first time that day. He indulged in too many margaritas and spent too much time on the dance floor learning something called "disco" from the Delaney sisters. It wasn't until later that he remembered, with a great deal of disappointment, that Seven would not be staying the night with him in Monterey. Her departure left him at loose ends, restless and a little resentful at being alone after the wild release of the party. It reminded him too much of his lonely exile on Voyager, his many nights alone in his quarters longing for the company of a woman.

Perhaps it was the alcohol or just the emotional roller-coaster of the evening that had made him feel suddenly sad and melancholy, but he'd quietly left the party, made his way past the patio and into the night. He crossed a meticulously manicured fringe of grass and arrived at the deck surrounding the pool where he collapsed onto a lounge chair and felt sorry for himself.

He and Seven had argued a lot recently. He resisted her desire to plan out his days to the minute, sometimes deliberately arriving late or arbitrarily changing his plans just because of the way she was using the schedule to control him. She was impatient with his "inefficient use of time," constantly pointing out how little he'd accomplished because of his meditation time or his hours in "recreational activities" or "pointless social interaction." He thought she was a workaholic; she thought he was an unfocused, undisciplined gadfly.

On Voyager, he realized, none of this would have been a problem between them. Everyone worked too hard on the ship, routinely pulling double shifts or split shifts for two- or three-week stretches at a time. Time off had been measured in minutes and hours, not days or weeks. There was so much work to be done that there was little time left for parties or picnics or any other "frivolous activities." And their roles had been clearly defined; their work was efficiently designed with little or no duplication of effort. He groaned in frustration as he stretched out and closed his eyes.

He didn't think anyone had noticed his departure until he heard the footsteps of someone approaching the pool. He opened one eye slightly and saw B'Elanna sit down on the lounge chair next to him. "Make yourself at home," he said, a small grin on his face.

"You were quiet at the reunion, Chakotay, and now you're over here moping all by yourself. Is something bothering you?"

He wanted to complain to her about Seven's inflexibility, but bit his tongue. B'Elanna and Seven had a grudging friendship, and she'd never approved of his involvement with the former drone. "I guess I was just a little unnerved to see so many of the crew in one place again. I thought it would be fun, but instead it was strange and awkward. I realized how much I missed being on Voyager, and being who I was there, too."

"I know what you mean. The people I thought I knew so well a year ago seem completely different here. Why is that?"

"I don't know." He thought about Seven, how they'd seemed so compatible on the ship, yet were so uncomfortable together now. Could they be experiencing the same "growth pains" the rest of the crew was? "Maybe we were too used to seeing each other in certain limited roles. Maybe we worked too hard and too long to have time to think about whether we really liked each other."

"Maybe so." She grew quiet, and Chakotay felt more certain that it was this problem he was facing in his relationship with Seven. In the limited Voyager universe and in their carefully defined roles, they probably would have been happier together, less conflicted.

But that didn't doom them to failure, he told himself. Diagnosing the problem was the first step to the cure. "We'll just have to get to know each other all over again, B'Elanna."

She laughed. "I thought we'd all just slip back into our old comfortable relationships, but it didn't happen. I had trouble talking to some of the people I thought I knew best." She sighed and looked back into the tightly packed party room. "Feels better here, somehow."

"Better than the reunion? I agree. Except not everybody's here."

She nodded, giving him a speculative look. "You mean the captain."

He hoped the poor lighting kept her from seeing how he was blushing. "Among others."

"Like who? Tuvok?" She didn't press the point, letting him get away with the little white lie, but he could see the knowing smile on her face. "She never hung around for these wilder parties anyway, so nobody expected her to be here. But, you were closer to her than the rest of us, Chakotay, so it's only natural that you miss her more than we do."

"I guess so." He felt embarrassed by the way she had figured out his feelings and worried that he might once again be wearing his heart on his sleeve. "I should've just gone up to her and talked."

"When would you have done that?" she chuckled. "That woman was surrounded by admirers from the moment she entered the ballroom. Everyone wanted time with her, and she was too polite to say no. First the press, then the admirals, then the crew. Then Wingate." She smiled indulgently at her oldest friend. "But I could tell she wanted to talk to you, too."

"Right. She confided in you about her innermost thoughts. 'Sure wish I could talk to Chakotay,' she said."

"Nothing that obvious, you goof. I could tell how she felt by the way she looked at you. Especially after she joined us at the table. She obviously misses you. You were her best friend, too."

"On Voyager, but not here. It was a good working relationship, B'Elanna, that's all." He tried not to panic, telling himself that B'Elanna couldn't have sensed the truth about his relationship with the captain.

"Too bad for you," she teased, giving him a playful punch and a wink. "And too bad she has to leave and can't come to the picnic tomorrow. It's just her kind of party—a little more relaxed, but not too wild. She really wanted to see the kids." She glanced into the party room as a loud cheer reached them. "I'd better find Tom before he and Harry decide to do something stupid. See you later."

He'd watched her return to the party and realized that his decision to stay in Monterey longer, to reconnect with these people, was at least partly a desire to step back a year in time, to restore some of the family feeling he missed. He looked forward to playing some volleyball, sitting around a campfire, throwing a Frisbee, and just talking and laughing with his friends on the beach. Like the captain, he, too, missed the children, especially Miral and Naomi, and looked forward to pushing them on swings, frolicking with them in the water, carrying them on his shoulders. He was sorry that his decision to stay disappointed Seven of Nine, but this was something that he wanted to do. Needed to do.

The reality was that no matter whether he was in Monterey or San Francisco, he would be spending the rest of the night alone. Seven's need for regeneration alcove had not lessened, and she seldom slept at all. While she occasionally indulged him with an overnight stay at his apartment, she generally held him until he fell asleep and then returned to her work in the study where he'd find her the next morning, as crisp and efficient as ever. He'd known that she was Borg and could hardly complain about her unique needs now, even though their lives seemed to revolve around her alcove's proximity or the power-greedy remote device they usually lugged along with them.

And yet, their sleeping arrangements signified so much of what was wrong between them. She was not and never would be a tactile person. She never reached for his hand or gave him a spontaneous hug. She tolerated sex, but disliked the "loss of control" it required, nor did she understand his need for affectionate gestures like holding hands or taking long, meandering walks or cuddling on a sofa, labeling them a childish waste of time. He suspected that she'd become as human as she could ever be, and unless he became partially Borg, which he'd categorically refused to consider, they'd never grow any more intimate than they were now. He shook his head in sorrow and disappointment, wondering for the thousandth time how he'd gotten himself into this complicated and demanding relationship.

His reverie was interrupted by a sudden gust of wind that brought with it a dramatic drop in temperature. The music inside the building stopped and the lights went out as the clean-up crew finished their work and headed for home. He shivered, hugged himself against the chill, and regretted forgetting his jacket at the hotel. A glance toward the bay revealed that the menacing bank of clouds had sped up and would arrive before he could get to shelter or his quarters. No matter what he did, he was probably going to get wet. Very wet.

He thought through the most convenient route to his room and realized there was no real shortcut available. The sidewalk that curved along the edge of the water would leave him unprotected from the gale as it blasted onto shore. The road that curved in the opposite direction might be less open to the weather, but it was also twice as far. Unless he wanted to be soaked, he'd have to cut through the alley behind the distinguished visitor's cottages and then angle through the golf course to the visiting officer's quarters some ten blocks away. With a shrug and a final glance at the clouds, he started toward the alley at a trot, drops of cold rain falling with loud splats all around him.

The violence of the squall reminded him of the plasma storms on New Earth with their fierce wind, icy rain, and flashes of blinding blue-white lightening. He remembered the first storm they'd endured there, the one that had caught Kathryn in the forest checking on her insect traps. He'd panicked about her safety, racing through the trees in search of her until he'd found her struggling to get home as the wind tried to rip her awkward equipment from her hands. They'd helped each other return to the shelter and crawled under a table to keep from being pelted by hail or hit by falling debris.

The despair she'd felt at the loss of her equipment had brought tears to her eyes, and he'd held her as she sobbed in frustration and hopelessness, throwing her arms around his neck and hanging on for dear life. He'd long suspected that she was hiding fear and vulnerability beneath her controlled Starfleet demeanor, but he'd been unprepared for the affect that seeing those feelings would have on him. She'd always seemed so confident, so optimistic, so tenacious in her determination to get home that he'd let himself believe she was impervious to doubt and despair, that she was, in fact, the consummate Starfleet captain.

For the first time in the nearly two years they'd worked together, he truly understood the pressure she felt, the panic she repressed in order to calmly lead the troops, in order to assuage their fears and keep them focused on their jobs instead of their predicament. He began to perceive how much the strain had cost her personally, in both emotional and psychological terms.

And he'd never admired anyone more. That night as he'd comforted her, he'd begun to spin the angry warrior legend in his mind. He would help her in any way he could. He would put her needs first because she so often put them last. She would find in him a reliable right arm, a steady and constant touchstone, a true and trustworthy ally. That moment had been the beginning of one of the most remarkable friendships in his life, one that he still treasured and always would.

He'd almost reached the end of the alley when he was stopped in his tracks by the distinctive aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The gusting wind forced him to find shelter behind the trunk of a tree as he scanned the cabins' back porches, trying to determine which cabin was the source of the smell. He realized it was the one next to the golf course, the one with the windows that glowed with the warmth of candlelight, and Chakotay imagined that he could hear the strains of classical music over the clash of thunder and pouring rain. All the other cabins were dark and silent, but not this one. Who else would be awake in the middle of the night? Who else would make coffee at this hour of the morning?

Kathryn Janeway was in that cabin. He was as sure of it as he was his own name. He imagined her and Randy Wingate snuggling on the sofa of the cozy candle-lit room, sipping coffee, talking as they relaxed to the soothing music, happy to be safe and warm as the storm beat against the cottage's windows. The thought conjured memories of long nights he'd spent with her in her quarters on Voyager, oblivious to the strange stars streaming past them, blissfully unaware of the dangers that might threaten their lives with each passing moment.

He missed her. He missed her voice, her sense of humor, her quirky smile, her kindness, her friendship. He decided that it was her presence at the reunion that had upset him, forced him to retreat to his table and watch the festivities from the sidelines like a neglected child. Memories of their time together in San Francisco came unbidden to his mind, and he stepped out of the shadows toward the house in an unconscious desire to be closer to her. If only he could walk up to the cabin and see her and hear her voice, he would be happy. More than happy. He could talk to her about Seven. She is the only person who would understand the complexities and challenges he faced while living with the former Borg.

Then he realized that with Seven gone, he could talk to Kathryn. There was no one waiting for him in his room, nowhere else he had to be. He could walk up to her cabin, knock on her door, and spend a few precious moments talking to her. She was obviously awake; he wouldn't be disturbing her sleep. He imagined himself in the cabin, sitting with her on the sofa, drinking tea, laughing at her wry comments about how he'd scheduled everyone's time on Voyager. Perhaps Wingate would retire to bed and leave them alone, realizing that the former command team might need some privacy, some time to talk things over the way they had for seven long years. She would make him feel better, more like his real self.

He wondered how many times in the last eight months he'd lain in bed thinking about Kathryn. Except for her postings on the Voyager message board, a few cryptic personal messages, and information gleaned from anyone who'd seen her in person, he'd had no idea how she felt about her life or what she was doing in her career. She traveled off-world so much that she didn't even have quarters on earth, and he was sure she'd be even busier once she was promoted to admiral, always a moving target. It was hard to believe that their close friendship on Voyager had faded into a memory in one short year. Not that they weren't still friends, of course. More than friends.

He pushed the thought away. She was apparently with Wingate now. And he was with Seven. He reached up and buried his face in his hands, brushing the mixture of rain and tears from his eyes as the gale buffeted him. He felt as if some great power had taken his life from him, taken away his ability to choose his fate. From the moment the Cardassians had killed his family, his life had spun out of control. His life had been pushed and pulled by circumstances, first into the Maquis, then into the Delta Quadrant, then back into Starfleet and finally into Federation space. Even his relationship with Seven seemed to have just happened to him without a conscious choice.

He leaned against the fence enclosing the tiny back yard as he stared at the cottage, forcing himself to see what was there—Kathryn with another man. She'd moved on. He'd moved on. He wasn't sure how or why it had happened, but he had to accept it. With a shiver, he brushed his wet hair from his eyes and pushed away from the fence, stumbling slightly as a violent gust of icy wind blew in from the ocean and caught him off-balance. He was about to turn away and start across the golf course when he heard a familiar voice shouting over the wind.

"Are you going to stand out there all night, Chakotay?"

His head snapped up at the sound, and he noticed, for the first time, the shadow of a small figure on the porch. "Kathryn?"

To be continued . . .


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Paramount rules. I'm just playing with their dolls.

Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. J/C Post-Endgame

Undeniable

By Mizvoy

Chapter 7 (Chronologically)

May 17, 2379 (one year anniversary of Voyager's return)

Monterey Starfleet Compound 0300 hours

"Come here before you're struck by lightening," Kathryn ordered, and Chakotay obeyed, making his way to the gate and striding up the slate pathway to the porch. She pushed the screen door open, looking past him at the trees that were being whipped around by the raging storm and the rain that was blowing horizontally across the yard. "Go on into the living room where it's warm. You must be freezing."

He brushed past her, through the porch and back door, and into the cozy, warm den that was pretty much as he'd imagined it would be. The light, he realized, was not produced by candles, but by the glowing embers of a fire in an imposing stone hearth that encompassed the whole northern wall. Except for the flames, a single lamp was the only illumination in the room. He glanced around, looking for Randy Wingate, but soon realized that the room was unoccupied and quiet except for the rainwater dripping from his clothes and forming a pool on the quarry tiled floor.

"I'm making a mess," he apologized, looking down at his feet. "I'll wipe this up before you slip on it."

"It's just water," she replied, pausing in front of him to brush his wet hair away from his eyes. The warmth of her hand made him realize how cold he was and he shivered involuntarily. "We need to dry those clothes. You can change out of them in the bathroom down that hall. I'll replicate something you can wear in the meantime."

He nodded, noticing for the first time that she was dressed in a pale yellow silk gown and matching robe that did nothing to hide her curves. He looked around again, curious. "Where's . . . ?"

"Are you looking for Randy?" she smiled. "He brought me here and then beamed to Paris to supervise the reception for the new Bolian ambassador day after tomorrow. You know me—duty before pleasure. Now go change before you catch cold."

"Aye, Captain," he grinned. He tried not to think about the fact that they were alone as he stripped out of his wet clothes and dried off with a luxurious towel. He realized that he was completely sober, the cold rain having nullified the effect of Chell's margaritas. He could use a drink, he thought, as he imagined Kathryn moving through the cabin in her smooth yellow silk. There was a soft tap on the door and then a hand appeared through a narrow opening holding a fleece sweat suit.

"This should fit," she said. "When you're finished, bring out the wet clothes so I can put them in the 'fresher." A few minutes later, he emerged from the bath carrying his clothes wrapped in a towel just as Kathryn appeared in the hall, carrying some wet towels in her arms. He figured she'd taken the time to clean up his mess.

"Where do you want these wet things?" he asked.

"The 'fresher's back here," she said, swooping toward the kitchen and taking the bundle from him. "Make yourself comfortable by the fire while I fix you some hot tea. Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm not hungry, but tea sounds great." He realized as he sat down on the hearth that the fire was holographic. The user activated the emitters for a certain timeframe, and the computer automatically "poked" the fire and "added logs" until it gradually turned to embers and ashes. Kathryn had dialed back the program, as several logs were now burning brightly, and Chakotay was grateful for the heat that radiated from the fire.

"What in God's name were you doing wandering around during a thunder storm?" she asked as she handed him a steaming mug of tea. "Did you and Seven have a disagreement? Or did she send you on some fool's errand?"

He smiled, cradling the warm mug in his hands. "No disagreement. I walked her to the transporter station so she could beam back to San Francisco and didn't get back to my quarters before the rain started. I was taking a shortcut through the alley when I smelled fresh coffee and thought of you."

Kathryn nodded. She'd wondered why he'd been lurking around behind the cabins, afraid he might be looking for her while Seven cooled her heels elsewhere. "Seven left?"

"She went back to San Francisco to regenerate and get ready for an important interview tomorrow on the east coast."

"The east coast?"

"Actually, Princeton. Their cybernetic program."

"Sounds ideal for her, but why didn't she bring a portable regeneration unit with her so she could stay with you?"

"She dislikes them, for one thing. She claims that they leave her feeling anxious and tired. I suppose it's like sleeping on a cot instead of a bed." Chakotay sipped the tea and felt it warming his throat. He wondered if Kathryn had any idea how unromantic life was with a former Borg drone. "And we'd initially decided not to stay, not realizing until today that there was a family picnic. Since it was too late to make changes to Seven's schedule, she left. I'm going to the picnic alone."

"I envy you. Like Seven, I found out about the picnic too late to change my plans."

"Too bad. We'll miss you." He glanced appreciatively around the small cabin. "I can see that being on the admiral's list makes life much more comfortable. I have a tiny one-room cell while you have a cottage complete with a fireplace all to yourself."

She laughed. "Rank has its privileges. But they come with a price." He noticed, for the first time, a pile of PADDs strewn across the coffee table. She'd been reading reports, as usual, ever the diligent officer.

He glanced at the clock. It was the middle of the night, and she'd been dead on her feet when he'd talked to her hours earlier. "You've been working? I thought you were exhausted."

"I was exhausted. I am exhausted. But there were a couple of hot issues waiting for me after the reception. I should've ignored them, but I made the mistake of glancing at them instead of just falling into bed, and then . . . well, then I was too agitated to fall asleep." She didn't tell him that she'd also been regretting her words to him about meeting in September, that she'd been overwhelmed with guilt and anxious to cancel their plans. The reports had been an attempt to get her mind off of her actions and lull herself to sleep. A failed attempt.

"Hot issues?" He knew he shouldn't ask. He was no longer on active duty and had no need to know, but he could see she was worried about something and instinctively wanted to help her.

She passed a hand over her eyes in frustration, remembering the political speculations she'd been studying. "I don't think I'll be exploring the gamma quadrant after all, Chakotay. They want to make use of my 'considerable diplomatic skills' by assigning me to the Romulan sector."

He watched as she stood and walked to the sofa and sat down, putting her feet on the coffee table. He knew her so well that he could tell she was upset, even though she looked serene, and he wondered if this change of assignment was the sole cause of the problem. She often resorted to a hot bath when she was struggling to relax and come to terms with a challenge or a disappointment, and he could tell from the steamy atmosphere in the bathroom and the damp tendrils of hair around her face that she'd recently crawled from the tub. "You are a miracle worker when it comes to diplomacy, you know."

"What I hate about it is that it's a desk job. After spending the last year closing out Voyager, I was hoping to get back out there and do some exploring."

"You will, don't worry. The Romulan situation is a potential powder keg. They might just start a war or something."

"I said exploration, Chakotay, not a war." She sighed again and shook her head as she put her feet down and picked up her coffee mug. "I'll get over this petulance eventually, you know. I'm still getting used to taking orders again."

He laughed, moving away from the heat to sit beside her on the sofa. "I think you've been traveling too much lately. How long has it been since you were home?"

"You must mean Indiana, since I haven't had time to even look for my own apartment, much less move into one. I haven't been home in almost six months. Oh, I met my mom and sister on Risa in March for a short vacation, but that really doesn't count."

"Maybe you should take some leave. Go back to Indiana. Reconnect with friends and family."

She shook her head. "I'm only on earth for a long weekend before heading out again. I have to return to San Francisco early tomorrow morning and then head out to Starbase 718. Maybe I should've left tonight like Seven did."

"I'm glad you didn't." He stared into the fire. Most of the time, he was glad she was not on earth. It was easier for him knowing that she was gone so much, that he didn't have to worry about running into her unexpectedly in San Francisco. "I've missed seeing you around."

"Is that so?" she smiled, obviously pleased, even though her eyes sparkled with wicked humor. "And that's why you avoided me like the plague at the reunion."

"You noticed that." He gave her a shamefaced look. "I didn't want to get in the way. You were the star of the show, Kathryn. I'm around the crew a lot, but not you. They miss you and want to spend time with you."

She let him gloss over his withdrawal, unwilling to threaten the easy tone of their conversation by bringing up their recent past. "I miss them, too. Everyone, so much. I should thank you for all the messages you've posted about the crew. You've done a great job of keeping me up-to-date on the major happenings in everyone's lives."

"It was always my job to keep you informed on the crew."

"And you always did it to perfection." She emptied her cup and relaxed into the cushions. "Speaking of jobs, how about your book?"

"I sent you the draft. It's supposed to come out soon."

"The draft was wonderful," she admitted, looking a little embarrassed. "I meant to write and tell you how much I liked the blend of history and story telling. You have a real talent for writing, Chakotay. I felt like I was inside that anomaly with John Kelly."

"Seven thought it read too much like fiction."

Kathryn frowned. "I hope you didn't take that comment too seriously."

He rubbed his face, reluctant to tell her the truth but strangely compelled to do so in spite of himself. "We've been struggling, Kathryn. Our interests, our natures, are so different. It's like we don't speak the same language."

"They say opposites attract," she quipped, immediately regretting what was a flippant response to a serious comment. "I'm sorry. That was a pat answer, and you deserve better."

"I deserve exactly what I've got."

She turned to him, a wave of guilt washing over her. He was involved with Seven because she'd pushed him away for seven years. "I'm to blame for this, not you. And certainly not Seven."

The conversation had finally turned personal, and Chakotay found himself relieved to have things out in the open. "The blame is mine. I lost focus. My single goal should have been to support you, to lighten your load. It was selfish and egotistical of me to get involved with Seven when you were so alone."

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the sofa cushions, remembering the many times he'd walked into her ready room or quarters to report on a personnel problem or troubling episode, always finding something humorous or ironic in the story to make her smile. As he spoke, he would shift his weight from one foot to the other, pull on his ear, give her a wry grin as he described the foibles and spats that seemed inevitable when people lived and worked in such close quarters. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, "You always helped me smile and keep my perspective, Chakotay. That didn't change because of Seven. You needed something I couldn't give you. Something Seven could. I never really felt alone as long as you were there."

He could feel a blush crawling up his neck. "I wish I could believe that."

"We were always a good team, Chakotay," she murmured, her voice soft, her eyes unfocused, remembering. "Sometimes I wish you were still with me. I grew accustomed to you, and there are times when I'd do anything to have you beside me again."

His eyes widened as the meaning of her words hit him. Yet, he could never be her first officer again, never go back to that limited, unnatural relationship. He looked away, unable to breathe. "I . . . I couldn't . . . couldn't . . ."

She chuckled, leaning toward him and placing her hand on his arm. "Don't stutter, Chakotay. I was just day dreaming. Besides, I'd never impose those parameters on you again."

He turned to face her, his eyes dark with barely restrained passion, his warm hand covering hers. "Kathryn."

She pulled away, alarmed at the way her pulse jumped at his touch. "Chakotay, stop. There's something important I've been fretting over and we need to discuss. Having you appear at my door like this has made everything much easier to rectify before it's too late."

"What are we rectifying?" he asked, trying not to panic.

"I can forgive myself for what happened in San Francisco last September. I had been drinking. You were relieved to find me still sane and in one piece. We were both ecstatic that Voyager's crew was finally, truly free." She stood up, walking to the hearth, keeping her back to him. "It was impulsive, spontaneous, and impetuous. And maybe there was a little bit of curiosity . . . about how we would've been together if . . ." She stopped, and he could tell that she was gathering her strength before she turned to face him, her voice firm. "But to meet again on purpose would be wrong. We both know that it would be."

He studied her as if he'd never see her again. He wanted to memorize the long, auburn hair pulled haphazardly onto her head, damp tendrils curling by her face. The porcelain skin sprinkled with cinnamon freckles, the flashing dark blue eyes. The slender physique and diminutive height sheathed in smooth yellow silk. The power of her personality, her charisma, her character as she confronted him took his breath away. She was a tantalizing combination of contradictions—brilliant, yet simple and down-to-earth; petite, yet powerful and commanding; controlled, yet enthusiastic and passionate; serious, yet witty and fun-loving. He never tired of her, never tired of looking at her or talking to her.

When Voyager had burst into the Alpha Quadrant the previous year, he'd been so relieved to be over her, to have moved on to Seven of Nine. After nearly seven years of fascination and hopeless dedication, he'd finally found someone else to love, someone just as complex and compelling, someone who was ready to commit to him and love him back. He'd found a life partner and had put Kathryn Janeway behind him once and for all.

Or so he'd thought.

He heard the faint beep of the 'fresher as it signaled the end of its cycle. "My clothes are dry," he said as he stood up, breaking the charged silence between them just as the second wave of the storm gave the cabin a violent shake. "I should go so you can get some sleep."

"Wait until the storm lets up, or you'll just get soaked again." She moved toward him, stopping to brush his hair away from his tattoo, so close he could see down the front of her gown at the hint of cleavage. She couldn't let him leave until she'd explained to him, as gently as possible, that she was not going to meet him as she'd promised, but she dreaded seeing the hurt in his eyes as she rejected him again.

At that moment, a lightening bolt struck a tree outside the cabin with a deafening roar and a blue-white flash of light that first blinded them and then plunged them into total darkness. Kathryn, who had never really outgrown a terror of thunderstorms that stemmed from her childhood on the Indiana plains, instinctively threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. For a moment, he was too shocked to react, but then he put his arms around her and tried to soothe her.

"We're okay, Kathryn," he comforted her. "The power will come back up as soon as the computer cycles through its diagnostic." She was trembling in his arms, and at first Chakotay thought she was crying, only to realize that she was shaking with laughter. "Kathryn?"

"I'm sorry," she giggled, her voice muffled by his sweatshirt. "I've stood on the bridge and faced down the Kazon, the Hirogen, the Vidiians, the Malon, the Borg--how many, Chakotay?—but one lightening bolt and I'm a six-year old again, scared to death and ready to crawl under my bed with the dog."

"It just surprised you, that's all." He chuckled with her. "But, I doubt that the crew's confidence would've been strengthened if the captain had jumped into the first officer's lap every time we went to red alert."

"No matter how much I wanted to sometimes," she admitted, pulling back to look up at him with a sheepish grin. "There were so many times I needed a hug."

"I wish I'd known that."

"How much confidence would the first officer have had in the captain if she'd been that weak, Chakotay?"

"Who says needing reassurance is weakness? Did you ever think that maybe the first officer needed some hugs, too?"

Suddenly, they became aware of their close proximity, and what had been a friendly, comforting embrace transformed itself into something that was much more. Kathryn found herself staring into his eyes as she realized again how much they'd needed each other on Voyager. But that was over, a year in the past, and everything had changed.

The holographic fire came back to life and the glow of the single lamp returned, but Kathryn didn't move from his arms. "I want you to know that I don't regret what happened in San Francisco. But we can't let it happen again, Chakotay. Not ever."

He felt an icy fist close around his heart as he understood what she was implying. He swallowed, struggling for his voice, gripping her shoulders with his hands. "You want to cancel our meeting in September?"

"I think we should." She couldn't hide the tears in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Don't you? Think of Seven. We can't hurt her like this."

He cupped her cheek, running a thumb over her lips, his other hand on her waist. "Kathryn," he whispered, "this one time, in all the years I've known you, let it be just you and me. Not the ship, not the crew, not Seven. Just the two of us. Our needs."

What could she do when he looked at her with such love and devotion? What could she say when she knew the wrong words could break his heart and ruin the relationship that had become the very bedrock of her existence? Should she deny the truth and send him away before it was too late? Should she turn him away one last time, and forever? "Chakotay," she started, shaking her head.

"No," he stopped her, pulling her firmly against his body. "I love you. I know you don't want to believe it, but I do. I've loved you for years, and whether we meet again or avoid each other for the rest of our lives, I'll always love you. Nothing can change that." He paused to take a deep breath. "Be honest with yourself, Kathryn, for once in your life. Be honest with me. Tell me what's in your heart. Tell me the truth."

She felt the tears streaming down her face, felt her aching need for him in the core of her being. She feared the words, feared the change they would inevitably cause in their relationship, and yet she owed him the truth a dozen times over. She owed them both the truth. "I do love you, Chakotay, you know I do. But . . ."

"No 'buts.'" He cupped her face in his hands, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs as he gave her a look of pure elation. "We're in love with each other, Kathryn. Don't make it more complicated than it needs to be."

He leaned down and brushed her lips with his, and she slid her hands under his sweatshirt, feeling the smooth warmth of his skin and the power of his body as she deepened the kiss. The storm continued to batter the cabin, but the occupants were oblivious to everything but each other. All rational thought evaporated in the heat of their passion.

To be continued . . .


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Paramount rules. I'm just playing with their dolls.

Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. J/C Post-Endgame

Undeniable

By Mizvoy

Chapter 8 (Chronologically)

September 15, 2379 (one year and four months after Voyager's return)

Mark Hopkins Intergalactic Hotel Suite 818 2000 hours

Suite 818 looked as if it were unoccupied. It had been taken late that afternoon by a tall, dark civilian who had registered as "Oscar Paris" and had paid in cash, asking not to be disturbed for any reason during the next two days. Nothing in the suite had been touched. He had brought no luggage with him, only a small bag slung over his shoulder. Expensive wines and cheeses sat unnoticed in the chiller. The spread on the king-sized bed was smooth and unwrinkled. The towels in the bathroom were perfectly arranged. The silence was complete.

Motionless In front of the huge plate glass windows, the man sat cross-legged staring into the sky. He had been there for hours, sitting unmoving as the sun shone brilliantly in a blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. The sun was setting now, a beautiful orange and gold display, but he was so deep in his thoughts that he was unconscious of its beauty.

The man, Chakotay, had not expected Kathryn to come. She had said she wouldn't the last time they'd talked about it, that cold, rainy morning in Monterey, and he had seen her speak from a starship three days earlier in a newsvid interview regarding the upheaval with their traditional enemy, the Romulans. She was an admiral now, burdened with decisions that affected hundreds and thousands, even millions, of people. The strain had to be incredible. She didn't have control of her time. With all the problems with Romulus, he imagined that she wasn't even on earth.

He'd been shocked by her appearance. Always thin, Kathryn had been emaciated, yet her face had seemed puffy, her eyes smudged with dark rings. Her hair had been pulled back severely, arranged without adornment in a bun at her neck. She looked like she might have been sick, and he could tell that she hadn't been eating properly or sleeping well in quite some time. Her image had haunted him ever since.

He'd been so surprised at her condition that he hadn't comprehended her words until he reran the interview for a second time. She was being asked about the rumors that the entire Romulan senate had been assassinated, that a Reman renegade had taken over the government, but he could tell that Kathryn was deliberately trying to inject calm into the public's reaction. She'd admitted that, if true, the situation was volatile and dangerous, but she didn't think war was a definitely possibility. At least that's what she said.

Then he'd noticed the stylus in her hands. It was a simple matter to have the computer focus in on and enhance the image until he could confirm what she was holding, what she was fiddling with nervously as she spoke, and when he'd seen it, he'd nearly cried out in surprise.

It was the stylus he'd made her on New Earth. On one of his explorations around the cliffs near their shelter, he'd found a narrow column of dense black quartz that gleamed with red and gold veins of fire when held in the sunlight. For days, he'd carefully worked with the stone, inserting into its tip the delicate computer chip that would activate the more intricate PADDs, yet careful to maintain its natural beauty in the remainder of the shaft.

It had been perfectly smooth, small, heavy, and breathtakingly beautiful. Kathryn had been entranced by it and had carried it with her constantly until the day Tuvok and Voyager had "rescued" them. Once they were back on Voyager, however, he hadn't seen it again. He'd considered asking her about it, but he didn't want to know if she'd lost it or simply tossed it into a drawer. Besides, she received dozens of beautiful, expensive gifts from the governmental leaders of alien planets, some of which were briefly displayed in her ready room, but most of which went into cargo bay one and were now on exhibit at some Starfleet museum, carefully labeled and catalogued. Why would she care about a handmade piece of stone when she had so many other beautiful objects to admire?

But in the interview, she was toying with it while she spoke. Did she have it with her because it reminded her of him? Did she intend for him to see her with it in her hand? Was it a message, a signal to let him know that she still thought of him, still cared forhim? He was overcome with gratitude and grief. He was grateful for her use of his gift, grief-stricken by her absence from his life.

He'd stumbled from his study and collapsed on his bed, feeling lost and unsure of what he should do next, finally closing his eyes for some much needed sleep. Seven had stopped by his apartment on her way home from work and had awakened him, alarmed by his being in bed so early in the evening.

"What's wrong?" she'd asked, gently brushing her hand along his cheek. "Are you sick? Has something happened?"

"No," he'd said quickly, his voice choking with guilt as he sat up on the bed, "nothing's wrong, nothing whatsoever. It's just . . . I'm just trying to sort out my life, that's all. I've had trouble sleeping the last week or so. I need to decide what my direction should be, where I should go from here now that the book's done."

"Do we need to talk about it?"

"I think we do."

They walked into the living room where she sat down on the sofa to listen, her blue eyes serious. "You're not satisfied with our relationship."

He realized that she hadn't asked a question, but simply made a statement. He sat down next to her and took her hand, grateful for her tendency to speak her mind. "No, I'm not. Are you?"

"Since our return to the Alpha Quadrant, I've had the opportunity to observe many more couples than were present on Voyager. While we seem compatible enough and get along well, a connection quite apparent between other couples seems to be missing with us."

He marveled at her sensitivity, appreciating how much of her humanity she had reclaimed. "Do you think so?"

"Yes. I spoke of this with my counselor recently. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. That's what counselors are for." In spite of himself, he began to panic. Where was she heading with this? What was going to happen with his life? Change, he reminded himself, is always frightening, yet often liberating when it is based on an acknowledgment of the truth. "What did your counselor say?"

"She said that not all relationships are destined to be permanent. She thinks that perhaps we became involved on Voyager for reasons that no longer exist."

"Reasons that no longer exist?"

She pulled her hand back from him. "I needed someone I trusted to help me continue to explore my humanity. You were the perfect person for that, and I'm grateful for your patience and your kindness."

He smiled at her, genuinely touched. "Thanks, Seven. I appreciate hearing that."

"However, the nature of that exploration has changed. I now understand the physical dynamics of human emotions."

He blinked in surprise. "You mean sex."

"Yes. I'm afraid I was very confused by the whole issue of sex, and our time together has allowed me to understand it better. I just hope that you don't think that I used you for simple pleasure."

"Believe me, I don't feel that way at all." He sat back and tried not to laugh. How many times had he confused love and sex and paid for the confusion the hard way? Seska was perhaps the most glaring example. "Most human relationships exist because people need something each other. In fact, I've probably used you as much as you have me."

"Truly?" Her naiveté touched him. He could tell she was relieved to know that he wasn't hurt by anything she'd said so far.

"I needed someone to take care of, something to fill my life besides my own obsessions." A vision of Kathryn sitting to his right in her command seat flitted through his mind. "I was beginning to wallow in self-pity, I'm afraid. You were a wonderful diversion."

"But something is missing for you, as well?"

"Yes, I think so."

"What is missing, Chakotay?" He stared at her in surprise, reminding himself of her inexperience and innocence. He was her first real experiment with love and with sex, so, of course, she would be bewildered by the confusing signals from her heart and her head. She continued, "We're good friends. We seldom disagree or argue. We're comfortable together. We're frequently intimate." She paused, waiting for him to reply. "There is more than this to a relationship?"

"Yes, Seven, there's more." He stood up and walked to the window, trying to think of a way to explain to her what it was she was beginning to perceive. "Although we're close, we've remained individuals, and we've kept our lives separate."

"But this is the nature of human existence, isn't it? To remain separate."

He turned to her and sighed. "Yes, in some ways. We'll never share the complete intimacy that you experienced in the collective. But close, lasting relationships involve the blending of the two individual's lives and spirits. I've heard people say that when they look into their beloved's eyes, they perceive their own selves looking back at them."

"That would be physically impossible."

He laughed. Her tendency to take things literally never ceased to amuse him. "What I mean is that the two separate individuals come to see the other as an extension of themselves. The emotional and spiritual boundaries between them begin to disappear as their relationship deepens."

"I have not seen myself when I've looked into your eyes," she admitted.

"I know. It hasn't happened for me, either."

"Have we failed to take some action to make this blending occur?"

"There's no trick to it, Seven. Either it happens or it doesn't."

She seemed confused. "Perhaps, then, we should reconsider the exclusivity of our relationship and seek a partner with which this 'blending of individuals' can occur."

His dimples appeared as he tried to repress his grin at her choice of words. "We don't have to hurry into anything, Seven. What we have is nice. Many people would settle for our relationship without question." As he spoke, he realized the truth of his words. He would have settled for what he and Seven had if he were still on Voyager. It would have been enough there, with his daily, intimate interaction with Kathryn and the constant demands of the ship and crew filling his time and attention.

"Are you willing to settle for what we have, Chakotay?"

He looked away, remembering a stormy night in Monterey, recalling blue eyes that revealed a spirit that seemed an extension of his own. "I honestly don't know."

She stepped up to him and slid her arm around his waist. "I don't know, either, Chakotay. I was hoping for an intimacy with you like that I experienced with Axum during my time in Unimatrix Zero. Physically, we have achieved it. But, as I've said, something is missing."

He turned to her and kissed her on the cheek, nuzzling into her ear. "You're leaving tomorrow for the conference on Alpha Century. Go, have a good time, and don't worry about this. We'll use the time apart to think things through. Whatever we decide, we'll decide together. And we'll always be friends."

She'd nodded, trusting him implicitly, never suspecting that guilt that was twisting his heart. Had his two spontaneous nights with Kathryn in some way doomed his connection to Seven? She sighed and said, "Are you still interested in a goodbye meal at Huzzah's?"

He smiled. "Absolutely. Give me some time to clean up, and we'll go have a nice dinner."

The meal had gone well, and Seven had left without any further discussion of their future. But, he hadn't eaten since that night. He'd fasted and meditated over his dilemma, with no intention of coming to San Francisco, no plan to waste his time and money on a lonely exile that would only serve to remind him of a lost romance. But then he'd called the Mark Hopkins and learned that the suite was available for the weekend. Seven was gone for another week. He had no obligations keeping him busy. At last he realized that he couldn't resist the impulse to go, and so, here he sat, alone in the silent room.

He recognized this as another important crisis in his life, a moment when a decision would influence everything that happed afterward. It was another of several turning points that had been unexpected and unavoidable and life altering. One had occurred when he'd rejected his father's traditions and left Dorvan V for Starfleet Academy without so much as a backward glance. Another happened when he'd turned his back on his chosen career and gone to the Maquis to avenge the people he'd left behind.

He'd felt as if his life had been neatly divided in two separate parts, his family and his career, and that there was no way to rectify the conflict between them, no way to blend them into harmony. And so he had raged against his fate. He had joined the Maquis to court death, expecting it, looking forward to it, until the Caretaker had intervened.

The only place he'd felt whole and at peace was on Voyager where his life and career had been perfectly intertwined. With Kathryn's blessing and open encouragement, he'd been able to pursue his family's beliefs as he served as her first officer. He'd been able to channel his anger toward a positive, constructive goal. He'd found acceptance and respect and forgiveness. He'd pledged his loyalty and devotion to her, and she'd accepted from him as much as she could allow herself to take and remain his superior officer.

And that, they had both thought, would be enough. It had been enough for seven years.

He sighed, frustrated by his failure to meditate over the last few days. His medicine bundle lay on the carpet before him untouched. Chanting quietly, he opened it, touching each artifact as he found it, arranging them on the opened pelt: a raven's wing from the devastation on Dorvan V, a rock from a creek north of San Francisco, a fragment of the same black quartz from New Earth that he'd used for Kathryn's stylus, and an akoonah, the device that facilitated the vision itself.

He closed his eyes, centering himself. Three days with just water. Nearly six hours in perfect stillness, absolute silence. He began his chant, closing his eyes and fingering the precious items before he placed his hand on the akoonah. He found himself on a rocky hillside dotted with melting drifts of snow that sparkled like stars in the weak sunlight. Above him, watching him with hooded golden eyes, stood a magnificent silver wolf. He nearly cried out with relief to be successful at last.

"Why have you come, Chakotay?"

"I need your advice. I need another perspective on my life."

She regarded him with barely disguised contempt and then turned, looking back at him. "Are you ready to hear it? You must see and accept the truth before you can begin to change."

She headed toward a small ridge while Chakotay struggled over the slippery shale to keep up with her. She didn't slow her pace, didn't look back for him as he hurried awkwardly over the treacherous terrain. Finally, when he fell with a loud groan and hundreds of small stones skittered down the side of the hill, she returned to him, pausing to lick a bleeding scrape on his hand.

"What are we doing in this God-forsaken place?" he demanded, rubbing his aching shoulder.

"You do not like location you have chosen?"

"I didn't choose this!" he snapped, twisting to the side and gingerly probing his bruised back. "You brought me here."

"I came to you where you were, Chakotay." She never responded in anger, a fact that sometimes exasperated him. "Perhaps you can explain why?"

He stretched out on the jagged rocks and icy pockets of snow to look up into the thickening clouds that raced overhead, a sure sign of snow. If ever there was a location to reflect the condition of his life, this was it. Cold, barren, remote, hopeless. He rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself to his feet, cradling his elbow in his arm. "Will you slow down, at least, before I fall and break an arm?"

She resumed her previous course at a much more manageable speed. "It isn't much farther anyway," she assured him.

They paused at a precipice that looked nearly straight down into a lush valley dotted with farms with ripening crops and herds of animals in the fields. The scene was warm and inviting and made him more conscious of the cold that surrounded him at this high altitude. He crouched down, wrapping his arms around his knees in an attempt to conserve his body heat. "How do I get there from here?"

"Good question." She sat down on her haunches beside him, letting the wind ruffle her thick fur. "You could jump."

"I'd like to be alive on arrival," he joked, stroking his hand over her shining coat. "Have I ever seen this valley before?"

"The valley is not a place, Chakotay." She turned walking slowly back up the incline. "It will be safer if we reach the top of this ridge. You will see more."

He followed her, resorting to all fours when the rocks slid beneath him. "Isn't there a path we can follow?"

She turned to him, her eyes bright. "Isn't the path what you seek?"

He crouched on the rocks, looking up at her in confusion. "The path?"

She reached the top of the incline and, sitting on her haunches, waited for him to join her. "A path. A direction. A purpose. A reason to continue."

He ducked his head and crawled to her position, sitting down beside her and putting his arm around her neck. "I have a reason to continue."

"Look around, Chakotay. Do you see a path? Companionship is always good, but it is not enough when you are lost."

Companionship? He looked around, trying to understand her meaning. The slope was rocky and bare, the lush farmland blocked from view. The surrounding hills were icy and dotted with low scrubby trees, and behind them, rising steadily into the horizon, ridge after ridge of barren peaks rose into the sky, topped with snow. The weak sun barely warmed him in the thin, frigid air. "No one can live here."

"No. If that is what you desire, then this is not a place to settle." The wolf stood, shaking off the cold. "You are a navigator, a pilot by profession. When you've gone off course, what do you do?"

"Retrace your steps to find the wrong turn. Or look at the charts and find the quickest way back to a familiar point of reference."

"A point of reference?"

"Something that helps you determine your location and reset your course. When the ship's at stake, what else can you do? Find a familiar landmark, swallow your pride, and admit you were wrong." He turned around. Behind him, the hills were lower. He could see in the far distance the lush green blur of farmland on the horizon. In many ways the trip back down the slope would be more treacherous and less adventurous than to continue, but the green valley called to him. Perhaps it was time to settle down. "You start over if you have to."

He opened his eyes to see the city lights of San Francisco stretching away from him like a blanket of stars, white hot stars burning in the cold of space. He was freezing as he carefully folded his medicine bundle, his hands trembling, his teeth chattering as he pulled the edges of the wool rug around his shoulders.

Where was she, he wondered. Was she here in San Francisco, working at Starfleet Headquarters? Was she in orbit of earth, waiting to take action to protect the Federation from Romulan treachery? Was she on a starship hundreds of light years away? Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, he knew instinctively that Kathryn was the point of reference he needed, that she was the key to his future.

He looked around at the suite where their long dormant love affair had exploded into existence. He should never have left her, never have let her withdraw from him as she had. He could still remember the unshed tears in Kathryn's eyes the previous year as he'd walked out the door to meet Seven. He'd had the same feeling of desolation as he'd strode across the golf course in Monterey, the anguish in her voice as she'd said goodbye still fresh in his memory.

Start over? He fought despair as he closed his eyes and focused on his quiet place, his center. The choice wasn't his alone. Kathryn seemed unwilling to consider a permanent relationship with him for a number of reasons, including his connection to Seven of Nine. They would both have to want to be together if this was going to work. He just had to have faith. If Kathryn was truly meant to be in his life, then nothing would keep them apart.

He had to believe that if he were to hold onto his sanity.

To be continued . . .


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Paramount rules. I'm just playing with their dolls.

Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. J/C Post-Endgame

Undeniable

By Mizvoy

Chapter 9(Chronologically)

September 15, 2380 (one year and four months after Voyager's return)

Starfleet Headquarters, Admiral Janeway's office 1800 hours

Admiral Kathryn Janeway sat at her desk watching as reports came in from the observation posts along the Romulan Neutral Zone, looking for something, anything, out of the ordinary. The Federation had been electrified by wild rumors about the entire Romulan senate being assassinated and the government being taken over by renegade Reman slaves who served under a leader named Shinzon.

While the newsvids speculated on the veracity of the early reports, Kathryn knew that there was a great deal of truth to this rumor. The information had been confirmed through a top-secret network of couriers, the original message allegedly sent by an individual close to Admiral Spock, who still worked undercover in the Empire. With the message came a warning to wait for further updates before formulating a Federation response.

Even so, Kathryn and the rest of the admirals and officers assigned to the patrol and protection of the Romulan sectors had spent the last forty-eight hours debating the proper type of action should the rumors prove true. Contact would have to be made with the new government as soon as possible in order to ensure that the treaties and routines along sensitive areas of the neutral zone would continue as before. Federation citizens living close to Romulan space were already clamoring for beefed up security, and every Starfleet vessel in the region had been put on alert and ordered to move closer to the border just in case quick action was needed.

Kathryn hated this part of her job, even though she'd learned that much of the work of a diplomat involved a calm demeanor in spite of excruciating tension. Sometimes she felt like a duck swimming on a pond, all smooth, graceful motion above water yet paddling like mad underneath. She reminded herself that it had been only twelve hours since the initial message had been received and that it would probably be a minimum of forty-eight hours more before they would hear any more news. She should go home and rest. If nothing else, she should let her chief of staff, Captain Watson, go home to her husband and children. Kathryn was more than willing to remain behind and hold down the fort.

"Is that you, Retta?" she called, hearing someone moving around in the outer office. "Why don't you go home? I doubt that anything will happen before Tuesday at the earliest. I'll call you if I hear something."

Loretta Watson appeared at Kathryn's office door wearing her uniform undershirt, a cup of steaming coffee in her hand. "I'll go home when you do, Admiral," she said in a no-nonsense tone of voice. "Didn't you have a mini-vacation planned for this weekend?"

Kathryn winced and turned her chair toward the window. She didn't want Retta to see the sadness the thought of her aborted plans created. "I cancelled that long ago."

"I thought September 15th was your official 'Voyager's Really Home Day.' Aren't you going to commemorate it in some way?"

"With all that's happening now, I can't even think about taking time off." She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. "It was just a frivolous indulgence, anyway."

"But you said yourself that we won't hear anything before Tuesday." Retta studied her boss's face in the window's reflection, seeing there the disappointment and despair she was no doubt trying to hide. She frowned, wondering what the admiral could be so upset about. Something personal? Or some fragment of intelligence she hadn't shared as yet?

Retta had quickly learned that being an admiral's chief of staff was nearly as challenging as being a ship's first officer. Intimately involved with the admiral's schedule and daily business, she was, nonetheless, something less than a friend and constrained by protocol from getting too involved her private life. To make matters worse, Janeway was a complicated person who sometimes shared her life openly and then at other times seemed unwilling to discuss anything personal at all. She'd talked to many other officers about this paradox, including some who'd served with Janeway over the years, but she was still searching for the right touch, the right blend of personal and professional that they could both tolerate. "Commander Chakotay said you'd be like this during times of stress."

Kathryn spun around in her desk chair, her face almost white with shock. Had Retta read her mind? Had the woman sensed the identity of the man who was foremost in her thoughts? "I beg your pardon?"

"I talked to Chakotay about serving with you when I met him at the Voyager reunion last May. I thought he could give me some pointers about your work habits." She could see the panic on the admiral's face and suddenly feared that she'd invaded her privacy in some way. "I hope you don't mind that we discussed you."

"Not at all," Kathryn smiled, trying to reassure Retta that she'd done nothing wrong, even though she could feel her pulse racing at the mention of Chakotay's name. "You were smart to ask him about my idiosyncrasies. No one knows them better than he does."

"He said that in a crisis you often become so focused that you fail to take care of yourself properly, and that I have to make sure you don't get too tired or overextended." She paused, letting the admiral realize that their current situation was just what he'd warned her about. "So, why don't we leave together?"

"I give up," Kathryn shook her head in resignation, standing up and stretching before she reached for her tunic. "Just remember that you have a husband and two kids waiting for you at home. I don't even have a dog. What difference does it make if I wait here or at home?"

"Because at home you might relax or take a nap." Retta smiled as she watched the admiral go through her end-of-the-day routine prior to leaving her office. "I thought you'd be meeting Admiral Wingate for a nice weekend celebration."

"Randy's touring the new conference center on Risa, remember? Tough duty." She laughed. "He won't be back for a month, at least."

"Could you get to Risa and back by Tuesday?"

They laughed at the ridiculousness of her suggestion as they walked out of the building into the golden glow of the sunset. "Maybe I'll go for a walk," Kathryn said, taking a deep breath of the sweet fall air. "Who knows what'll happen next week. We may all be on our way to the neutral zone in forty eight hours and miss the rest of this nice weather."

"I've set the comm to contact me if there are any incoming flash messages, Admiral. I won't bother you unless they need your immediate attention." She put a hand on the small woman's shoulder. "Why not go see your mom? Take in a play. Do something out of the ordinary to commemorate this special day."

"Coffee. I'll have a nice pot of coffee, take a hot bath, read a trashy novel, and go to bed." She found herself looking forward to it. "But I may just stay in the city, close to the office. If you need to contact me, use my commbadge."

"Sounds perfect. Room service would be divine. I'll see you Monday, then."

"If not before."

Retta headed for the transport station, her mind already focusing on a rare evening with her family. Kathryn watched her disappear into the building before she decided to head into the city for the coffee served at her favorite café "The Night Owl." She walked through the gates of the huge Starfleet complex and made her way down into the city, enjoying the excitement of a Saturday night in San Francisco, the buzz and hum of a big city invigorating her. She needed the exercise, she realized, as she settled into a steady pace, enjoying the sights and sounds around her. By the time she reached her destination, her blood was flowing and she felt much better.

"Admiral Janeway!" Helene, the Night Owl's owner, greeted her when she entered the café. "What a pleasant surprise!" She turned to the serving bar, signaling for a fresh pot of coffee before she led Kathryn to a secluded booth in the back of the room. "We're so seldom honored with your presence in the evenings."

Kathryn relaxed, sipping her coffee and toying with a chef salad as she watched the café's varied clientele at their meals, other lonely diners, couples on dates, families with children, tourists and diplomats. Through the café's windows she could see the skyline of the city glowing in the sunset, the tall buildings transformed into spikes of gold. Among them was the Mark Hopkins Hotel.

She closed her eyes, fighting to keep herself from thinking about her cancelled plans, her selfish desire to repeat the rendezvous of a year earlier. In spite of her rash promise she'd made at the end of Voyager's one-year reunion, she'd told Chakotay in no uncertain terms that she wouldn't be meeting him there. She couldn't deliberately meet him. Their tryst the previous year had been innocent and unplanned, and she tried to forget their second chance meeting in Monterey. To meet deliberately would be a declaration of sorts. An admission of an affair.

"Don't you like the salad, Admiral?" Kathryn opened her eyes to find Helene standing over her, a concerned look on her face. "You look as if you've lost your best friend. Is there trouble coming?"

She smiled, wanting to reassure this dear woman before she imagined that the threat of another Breen attack. "Nothing serious, I assure you, and nothing to do with this salad." She stood up. "I had a late lunch," she said, looking down at the nearly untouched food. "And I'm overly tired. If you don't mind, I'll call it an early night."

"Of course," Helene replied, putting a reassuring hand on her arm. "You'll feel better after a good night's sleep."

The transport station was at the bottom of the hill, so Kathryn started for it at a leisurely pace. She noticed that the windows of the Mark Hopkins glowed like sheets of pure gold in the reflected light of the sunset, reminding her again of her broken date. A sudden wave of desolation made her sink onto a park bench conveniently placed in front of a drug store.

It was too late to meet him, she realized, even though he and Seven were now living on the east coast. He couldn't get here on time even if she changed her mind and begged him to come. It was too late for them. Perhaps it had always been too late.

Four months earlier, in the cabin at Monterey, Chakotay had emerged from the bathroom dressed in the clothing that had been dried and pressed by the 'fresher. She'd wanted to run to him, to throw her arms around him and drag him back to bed, but she was afraid to do it for fear that she'd never let him go. Instead she'd gestured at the window and delivered an obvious weather report.

"It's cold out there," she'd warned him. "And the grounds are still soaking wet from the rain. You should probably take the long way around instead of cutting across the golf course."

"Someone might see me if I walk along the street. They might jump to conclusions." His eyes had been dark with restrained emotion—anger and disappointment. She'd heard all of his arguments, though, and he didn't want to risk her annoyance by restating them. The evening had been an odd mix of bliss and antagonism. He waited on the other side of the room, reluctant to leave things as they were between them. "Besides, my shoes will dry."

"My new chief of staff will be here any minute, Chakotay."

"So this is goodbye, then?"

"Yes, goodbye," she'd nodded, moving across the den toward the back porch, where she could see a faint glow of sunlight in the east. "The sun's rising, Chakotay. If you don't leave now, you'll be a moving target for some retired admiral with an early tee time."

He'd walked quickly across the room, only to stop as he reached her, his eyes fixed on the floor. "Are you sure about calling off September?"

"Yes. I wasn't thinking clearly at the reunion when I mentioned meeting you. We aren't free. Neither of us. And to deliberately plan . . . ."

He'd looked up at her in despair, and her heart broke to see him so sad. "We could be free, Kathryn. We should be free."

"It wouldn't work," she'd insisted, scrambling to keep her head in spite of his intoxicating proximity. "You wouldn't like my lifestyle—endless traveling, late hours, working weekends. You'd resent Starfleet. You'd feel guilty about Seven. She loves you and needs you in her life."

"She'd adapt." He'd smiled and taken her hand. "We could try."

She'd wanted to try. She'd looked into his eyes, trying in vain to think of another argument against their meeting. The warmth of his touch was making her head spin. She'd actually leaned toward him, conscious of his large, solid body, conscious of how much she needed his warmth in the early morning chill. Her front door chime had stopped her.

"That'll be Captain Watson," she'd said, pushing him gently toward the door. "She can't find you here."

He'd stepped onto the porch, turning to give her one last look. "If you change your mind about the Mark Hopkins, let me know and I'll be there."

"I won't change my mind," she'd said as the chime rang again and she looked over her shoulder toward the front door. "But, I'll miss you," she whispered as she turned away from him and toward her duty, toward Starfleet and work and protocol. Toward loneliness.

Kathryn awakened from her reverie and realized that she was still sitting on the hard park bench, only now the last hint of warmth had disappeared with the sun. A cool breeze made her shiver as she huddled against the building, desperately fighting despondency.

Her life seemed to be nothing but a long series of melancholy events. The long separations from her adored father and her endless attempts to please him, to get his attention and approval. The trauma of his and her fiancé's death when she was an impressionable ensign. Her own life-threatening injuries. Her future life with Mark Johnson torn from her by the Caretaker's kidnapping of Voyager and her crew. And then Chakotay.

Of all of her Voyager senior staff, she'd felt as if she'd let him down the most. She'd never been able to give him what he needed from her, and she still felt guilty about that failure. So often, a captain's job comes down to finding the physical and spiritual requirements that make the crew happy and then doing everything in her power to keep those necessities in supply. The basics are easy enough—food, fuel, medicine, a goal to work toward, a sense of accomplishment, of teamwork, regular communication with home.

It had been Chakotay's intangible needs that had baffled her. She'd learned to tolerate and even encourage Tom Paris's creative bent by allowing him unimpeded access to the holodeck. Harry's music sustained him. Neelix had enough natural morale to supply the entire ship. B'Elanna was always happy with her engines; Kathryn had never met a purer engineer in her life. Tuvok? She knew he'd take care of himself. And Seven seemed energized by her exploration of her human individuality and then the parental role she played with first Naomi and then the Borg children. All of them, even Chakotay, found happiness by doing for and thinking of others. So did she, as she thought about it. She was happiest when she knew her crew's needs had been met.

But Chakotay had needed more from her than she could give. She'd allowed him the time to explore his spirituality, allowed him to use the shuttle when he needed privacy, allowed him to beam down to many planets' surfaces alone, in spite of the unknown dangers, for his periods of solitary meditation. He hadn't seemed to need any other hobby or diversion. What he'd needed was a connection, a relationship. She'd offered him friendship, and he'd accepted that from her without objection. He never complained about her refusal to consider a deeper bond between them. Not once.

How she wished things could have been different. How many times in a lifetime could a person find someone so perfectly suited to her quirks and idiosyncrasies? She wondered, with a heavy heart, how many more chances she would have to find happiness.

She'd promised herself, when the admiral had brought them home early, that she would do nothing to interfere with Chakotay's budding romance with Seven of Nine, and so she'd tried to move on, finding more than one gentleman to keep her company since their return. She'd maintained a familiar distance from her former first officer, communicating with him mostly through the public Voyager message board, speaking with him at the few promotion parties, weddings, chance meetings, and celebrations over the months since their return. She felt her stomach clinch when she realized that she'd only been alone with him twice, and that both times . . . .

She pushed the thought away. After all those years of denial on Voyager, it was as if their reserve of self-control had evaporated.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" Startled, Kathryn looked up and into the kind eyes of a policeman walking a beat. "Do you need help? Are you lost?"

Yes, she thought, I'm lost. But instead she said, "No, I was just enjoying the sunset. I'm on my way to the Mark Hopkins Hotel."

"A wonderful hotel. Meeting someone?"

Her eyes misted. "No, not this time."

"Too bad."

She stood up and thanked him for his concern as she started down the street. She'd meant to spend this weekend alone a year ago, but fate had intervened. This year, she would spend the time rethinking her future, coming to terms with the mistakes she'd made. This time, she'd do things right. It was time to face the facts and get on with her life, and where better to do that than the very place where she'd veered off course a year earlier?

She'd walked nearly a block when her emotions overwhelmed her. Stepping into the shadow of a recessed doorway, she buried her face in her arms, hot tears dampening the sleeves of her uniform as she sobbed. He wasn't there. How she longed to see him, to hear his voice, to snuggle into his body and sleep with his arms around her.

She knew that there could be no middle ground. She would have to break with Chakotay completely. They could no longer be friends if they couldn't be alone together without succumbing the sexual attraction that seemed to overwhelm them.

As difficult as it would be, she couldn't think about him that way anymore, couldn't give in to those memories. The joy of their loving, the sweet release of years of emotional tension, the harmony of their passion had been like nothing else she'd ever known. She couldn't get close enough to him, couldn't get the memory of him out of her dreams. He intoxicated her. She'd become addicted to him like air or water or, she smiled to herself, like coffee.

But, he belonged to Seven of Nine, and because of that she would never again allow herself to touch him. She would get a deep space posting. Once the Romulan problem was resolved, she'd insist on the assignment to the Gamma Quadrant or a survey along the galactic rim. She'd be sure to be far enough away to make these meetings impossible, to avoid the lure of him, to resist her need of him.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and peeked out from her hiding place, hoping that no one had seen her, a Starfleet admiral, crying like a baby. She would grieve the loss of Chakotay for the rest of her life. She would never find another man to suit her as well. She would never be in love again.

As awful as the prospect of her loneliness seemed, it was better than the guilt she would always feel for hurting Seven just as she was finding her stride as a human woman, just as she'd turned to Chakotay for love and belonging. Kathryn had her years with Chakotay in the Delta Quadrant and their brief times together since their return to remember him by. She would keep those memories close to her heart, treasure those hours as the best of her life.

She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, putting the mourning behind her as she faced a solitary future with her usual determination. She'd experienced a love that was precious and rare, and the memory of that happiness would be enough, she told herself, to make her life worth living.

She had no other choice.

To be continued . . .


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Paramount rules. I'm just playing with their dolls.

Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. J/C Post-Endgame

Undeniable

by Mizvoy

Chapter 10 (Chronologically)

September 15, 2379 (one year four months after Voyager's return)

Mark Hopkins Intergalactic Hotel

When Kathryn Janeway walked into the lobby of the Mark Hopkins Hotel, she immediately regretted not changing out of her uniform before she'd left the office. While San Francisco's populace was used to seeing Starfleet admirals walking around in their midst, most of the people in the lobby were from off-planet or from less cosmopolitan areas and were fascinated by the appearance of an admiral in their hotel after hours on a Saturday night. She could feel their eyes upon her as she walked quickly to the front desk, and she hoped that no one would recognize her as Voyager's captain and try to engage her in a another conversation about her adventures in the Delta Quadrant.

She reminded herself that this time she was staying here in order to remain close to work, in order to be able to return to the office quickly in case dramatic and dangerous events unfolded in the Beta Quadrant. Her decision to do so was not unprecedented. Many admirals stayed in nearby hotels or took short-term leases on apartments when they needed to stay on top of a crisis and didn't want to spent time commuting back and forth from home. No one need ever know that her original plan had been to meet Chakotay here. She tossed her head in confidence as she walked up to the front desk.

The young man at the desk looked up from his work and gave her a warm smile. At least he wasn't intimidated by her rank, she thought. "How can I be of service, Admiral?"

"I'd like to rent Suite 818, if it's available."

The man turned to his screen and pulled up some data, frowning at what he saw. Before he spoke a word, Kathryn knew that he had bad news. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but that suite is unavailable. May I offer you the same suite on a different floor?"

She tried to keep her disappointment from showing as she thought through her options. She could change her mind, walk to the nearest transport station, and beam back to her neighborhood north of the city. Or she could take the suite he offered and continue with her plans. How much different would the same suite on a different floor be from the one she'd had the year before? Would being on a different floor make that much difference? "Which floor is available?"

"Suite 1018 is the very same layout, Admiral, but it has an upgraded whirlpool tub."

Her eyebrow shot up. What could be better than a whirlpool tub? "I'll take it," she said, reaching into her shoulder bag to provide the credit reference he'd need.

"Do you need help with your luggage?"

She laughed, showing him the small shoulder bag she carried. "I'm traveling light tonight. And I'm sure I'll find my own way, if you'll just add a suitable tip for the bellboy to my bill."

"Yes, ma'am."

He handed her the access codes for the suite and wished her a happy stay. Kathryn had just made her way to the bank of elevators when she heard someone calling her name.

"Admiral Janeway?" The desk clerk blushed slightly and was obviously awkward about announcing her identity in front of the lobby crowd. "After you left the front desk, I noticed that a message icon was flashing on my screen. The occupant of suite 818 left instructions that this message should be given to anyone who asks for the suite during his stay." He smiled and gave her a wink. "Sounds strange, I know. If I were you, I'd just ignore it."

She looked at the paper and felt the blood drain from her face. With great effort, she took the note and stammered her thanks, feeling more than a little dizzy. She had a good idea who the note was from, and she fairly certain what it would say.

She stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the tenth floor and closing her eyes as the car passed the eighth without stopping. She walked to Suite 1018, noting when she entered that except for a change in the color scheme, this suite looked very much the same as the one two floors below. Everything was the same and yet different, she thought, her mind applying the same understanding to her relationship with her former first officer.

When she'd come to the Mark Hopkins a year earlier, she'd been anxious about her crew's future and ready to face the mistakes she'd made in the Delta Quadrant, ready to accept and deal with her repressed emotions as her counselors had recommended. However, everything had gone terribly wrong, and she realized that she'd done little or nothing to change her bad habits of denying her emotions. Here she was, a year later, still struggling with the same problems because . . . because they centered on her feelings toward Chakotay.

When she thought about it dispassionately, the problem was clear. She was in love with Chakotay, and when she'd allowed herself to express that love for him, she'd thrown caution to the wind. Twice. But when the passionate moment had ended, when she had tried to try to bring that love into her "real" life, she failed miserably. Why? Was she such a prude that she couldn't admit to having fallen in love with her first officer? Was she so naïve to think that his involvement with someone else, even Seven of Nine, would make her love him any less? Was she unwilling to admit, even to herself, that she was a flawed human being who could make mistakes? Did she really believe that she could simply force her mistakes to disappear by ignoring their repercussions?

"It never happened," she'd told him the first time they'd made love, totally callous to his feelings and needs, focused only on herself when he, too, was hurting and needing comfort. "It meant nothing," she'd lied, and he'd let her get away with it. If that were true, she chided herself, if it really meant nothing, then why does the memory continue to haunt me?

Chakotay had been willing, even anxious, to talk about the problem with her, to help her work through her confusion. But she'd done what she'd always done to him, what she'd learned to do in the Delta Quadrant—deny her feelings, ignore her needs, focus her attention on other issues—all the things the counselor had told her she needed to stop doing. And because of her stupidity, their friendship had all but died. She'd withdrawn from him, hesitated to contact him about anything, stopped turning to him for advice and reassurance, failed to respond to his tentative efforts at communication.

She'd thought, wrongly, that his absence from her life would lead to his absence from her heart. Monterey had proven that assumption wrong. Their friendship hadn't diminished at all. They'd slipped easily into their familiar banter and trust and joyously into each other's arms. The problem had been her wrong-headed reaction to their love for each other, her refusal to even discuss their feelings.

She remembered waking up next to him in the cabin after the storm had passed, opening her eyes to see him staring at her with raw fear in his eyes as he waited for her inevitable refusal to accept the truth, her unwillingness to acknowledge and deal with reality. She hadn't let him down.

"Dear God, not again," she'd cried, pulling away from him as the realization of what she'd done set in.

"Kathryn, we need to talk about this. We need to face it, not run away from it."

"There's nothing to talk about." She'd gotten out of bed, wrapping a sheet around her, hurrying to get away from the look of despair on his face. "You have to go. Right away, before Retta arrives."

"This isn't a casual affair, Kathryn, and you know it. We love each other, and we've loved each other for years. We can't go the rest of our lives denying it."

"I can." She'd glared at him, wanting desperately to blame him for what had happened, yet knowing that everything had been by mutual consent, that she'd wanted him just as much as he'd wanted her. "We missed our chance. It's too late."

He'd continued to try to reason with her as she'd moved away from him, simply refusing to listen. He'd explained to her that he couldn't move ahead with Seven while his feelings for her remained unresolved, that she couldn't hope to find someone else until she'd found a solution to the bond that kept them attached to each other. He was right, she realized, looking around the strange, yet familiar suite. His presence here was her chance to set things right, to face him and settle things once and for all.

Kathryn dropped everything but the slip of paper on the coffee table and sank into the sofa's cushions. Chakotay had come to the Mark Hopkins. In spite of her protests that she wouldn't follow through on their planned meeting, wouldn't join him this weekend, he'd come anyway. The question was, why was he here? Did he think she would change her mind and surprise him? Or had he come, as she had, to put closure on their failed relationship forever?

Kathryn opened the slip of paper and studied the long alpha-numeric sequence in surprise. She'd expected a letter of explanation, a tearful farewell, or a love note, but not a puzzle to decipher, and she frowned as she looked for a clue to its real meaning. Then she realized that it was a code, all right, but a door code, not an encrypted message, and that it was the door code she'd last used on Voyager, the same code she'd used the previous year when she'd occupied suite 818. The message meant that he'd hoped she'd come. Why else would he have left this note for her?

It was more than a message, she realized. It was an invitation.

She wadded up the paper and tossed it onto the table. There was no way she would be with him this weekend, no way should would resume their affair. For seven years on Voyager, she had resisted the attraction she'd felt for him, and she had resolved to resume that avoidance at all costs. They were both involved with other people and should, at the very least, extricate themselves from those commitments before they began another one, especially one as volatile as theirs had the potential to become.

The problem was that she wasn't sure that she and Chakotay could sustain a long-term relationship. People who were in love needed to be together, did whatever it took to find time for one another. She and Chakotay had gone weeks at a time without communicating a single word, months without seeing each other, and yet . . . yet, she felt, always, the connection between them. Their passion had always simmered just beneath the surface, ready to overwhelm them like teenagers once they acknowledged its presence. Kathryn had always avoided losing control of herself, of giving in to physical passion, but with Chakotay she relished it, dreamed about it, thirsted for it. Once she'd tasted his love for her, she wanted more.

She stood up and walked to the window, leaning her face against the cool glass. All these years she'd attributed her feelings toward him as simple physical attraction. Almost every available female on Voyager had been drawn to him, and she had told herself that her fascination with him was just the same as everyone else's. Or was it?

Could it be that she was truly in love with him? She'd told him she was, when he'd confronted her in Monterey, but she had later convinced herself that it was his intoxicating presence that had made her say those words. She couldn't believe she was in love with him, didn't want to believe it. What she felt was just pure lust, she told herself, an animal reaction to his incredible sexuality and physical beauty. They could never have been friends as long as they had been in the Delta Quadrant if a love this deep and abiding had been present.

She picked up the bag and went to the bedroom to change. But first, she thought as she gazed longingly at the whirlpool tub, what harm could there be in putting off her confrontation long enough for a relaxing soak? Without hesitation, Kathryn began running the water and drizzled in some bubble bath.

The powerful jets of water and the perfect warmth relaxed her and helped her think through her feelings toward Chakotay. Of course she loved him, as a friend, and needed him, as a confidante. He'd proven that he was absolutely trustworthy and, even better, willing to adjust to and compensate for her erratic behavior. He had an instinct about her needs that was borne of long years of service under her command and a careful study of her character.

But, he was so much more than just a handsome man and a wonderful first officer. He was a man of peace who exuded a dangerous power and tendency toward violence that she found fascinating and exciting. When others misconstrued his loyalty toward her as weakness, he'd been so sure of his own value and strength that he'd simply shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes," he'd explained, "accepting the appearance of weakness is the surest sign of strength." His calm exterior and generous nature masked a remarkable intelligence and profound intuition that made him a challenge to talk to and argue with. And his simple lifestyle was actually so complex that she still was unsure she understood it, after eight years as his friend.

She felt much better after her bath. The silk shirt felt cool and comfortable compared to the scratchy fabric of her Starfleet uniform, and the slippers were a welcome relief from the high-heeled boots she habitually wore. A quick look at herself in the mirror showed her a woman who was aging gracefully, she thought.

A few minutes later, she stood outside the door of suite 818, but Chakotay didn't answer the chime. After waiting a few moments, Kathryn realized that he was probably asleep or that he'd disabled the chime because he didn't want to be disturbed by anyone. That's why he'd left the code for her, so she could come in when she wanted to. She closed her eyes briefly, visualizing the data printed on the slip of paper, and then punched the sequence into the security panel, walking into the quiet room when the doors slid open.

She immediately saw his silhouette against the huge windows where he sat motionless, deep in meditation, on the flokati rug. Their weeks together on New Earth had taught her to respect this curious practice and to let him complete his sessions without undue interruption. More than once, she'd come across him in some remote idyllic spot where he had been sitting for hours without moving and barely breathing. Once, she had hidden in the nearby trees to watch him, amazed at his total concentration and complete oblivion to his surroundings. This deep contemplation, she thought, was the secret to his calm steady personality, to the quiet self-assurance that drew her to him.

Not wanting to disturb him, she crept into the room and sat down facing him, crossing her legs and leaning against the window, desperately trying to center herself, to prepare herself for what she had to tell him. Soon he would open his eyes and smile at her, and she would have to resist the urge to simply respond to his magnetism, to steel herself against the electricity that flowed between them. She closed her eyes and waited patiently, breathing deeply and relaxing her tense muscles as her pulse slowed.

Whether the vision that came to her was a repressed memory or a fragment of a drug-induced hallucination, she would never know. She remembered lying on her side in sickbay, immobilized by excruciating pain from the spinal clamps and the cortical implant installed by the Borg, unable to breathe, unable to move, totally helpless against the technology that had been drilled into her body. The Borg had been able to dampen the physical pain of assimilation while she'd been on the cube, but she and the others had been gradually losing that benefit since they'd beamed back aboard Voyager. What had been, at first, discomfort was turning into agony.

She could hear the doctor and Tom Paris working feverishly on Tuvok in the critical care bay and the groans of B'Elanna on the biobed behind her, but because she was lying on her left side, she could only see the grey wall in front of her. She was back on the ship, but not back as its captain as much as a seriously injured former Borg drone. She longed to hear the familiar throb of Voyager's warp core, to feel the gentle vibration of the decks beneath her feet, to sit in her command chair and monitor the repairs. She wanted to roll over and tell her chief engineer that everything would be all right and to ask the doctor about Tuvok's condition. She wanted to walk through the passageways giving out encouragement to her crew. She wanted to take a hot bath. She wanted to have a cup of coffee. She wanted to talk to Chakotay.

Frustrated, she closed her eyes, focusing her mind on her heartbeat and the steady shallow rhythm of her breathing. Then, she felt a warm hand cup her cheek. "Don't open your eyes," Chakotay said, his voice soft, his face inches away from hers. "Just relax and breathe."

"The ship?" she croaked, trying not to move. "The crew?"

"Everything's fine, Kathryn. I've taken care of the ship and the crew. You take care of yourself. You can trust me, you know."

"I do trust you." She tried to relax, but grimaced as the spinal clamps pinched her nerves and sent waves of nausea ripping through her. "I think I'm going to throw up," she warned him.

He lifted her slightly, helping her aim for a basin he'd pulled from under the bed as she vomited a disgusting viscous liquid into the container. Chakotay consoled her, "Once the doc gets Tuvok stabilized, he'll take care of you. It won't be much longer now."

She laid back gingerly, Chakotay arranging pillows behind her as he lowered her gently onto the bed. "Chakotay, I'm sorry for taking you away from the bridge. You must have a million things to do."

"I had to make sure the three of you were all right. You, especially." He smiled at her, and she thought she could see the affection, the love, in his eyes. "Rest. Focus on getting better. I'll send reports along as soon as the doc thinks you're ready."

"Sooner than that," she ordered, and he laughed. She stared at him, realizing how much she depended on him. "What would I do without you, Chakotay?"

"I hope you never find out, Kathryn. I hope we're always together."

She looked up, the world suddenly blurred with pain that made her head spin. "I want to tell you . . . ," she started, only to have her eyes squeeze shut. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, that she needed him. "I . . . oh, God." She felt a terrible throbbing in her right temple that seemed to echo through her head and ripple down her spine.

"Rest now, Kathryn. Once you recover, you can tell me." He looked up toward the back of sickbay. "Doc? The captain needs you! Her pain has worsened."

"Don't go now," she mumbled, trying to keep Chakotay's attention as the doctor stepped between them, hovering over her with a medical tricorder. "By then . . . too late . . . I'll lose my nerve." She heard the hiss of the hypospray and slipped into a blessed unconsciousness.

She'd never found the courage to ask Chakotay if he'd really been with her in sickbay or if she'd hallucinated. From what she'd pieced together from her subsequent examination of the fragmented internal sensor logs, he'd been off the bridge several times between their return from the Borg cube and the time when her implants had been removed. Where he'd gone had been lost or unrecorded as the ship underwent its extensive repairs.

She'd wanted him to be in sickbay with her, she'd longed to hear his voice and to be comforted by him so much that she believed he had been there, if not in body, then in spirit. The memory was so real that it didn't matter if it wasn't true. In her heart, she knew he'd come to check on her. He'd always been there when she'd needed him most.

Tears in her eyes, she was suddenly aware of her surroundings again, aware of Chakotay's presence right in front of her, so close that she could reach out and touch him. She opened her eyes and studied his face, feeling an overwhelming rush of emotion as she accepted the truth at long last. She loved him. She loved him with all her heart. And she'd hurt him time and time again by denying her true feelings for him.

"Kathryn?" He was smiling at her, his brown eyes warm, the familiar dimples on full display, and she felt her heart flip over in an irrepressible response. "You're really here?"

Every thought about ending their relationship, every carefully planned word of her farewell speech was immediately forgotten. This, she realized, is what she'd secretly hoped for when she'd decided to spend the night in San Francisco. Somewhere deep inside, she'd thought he might be here waiting for her and that the fates would bring them together as they had so many times before.

This, she realized, was the moment they had been heading toward for more than eight years, the decision point, the crisis of their friendship. The next few moments, their next few words would decide the nature of their relationship for the rest of time. Would they move forward together or apart? She knelt in front of him, cradling his face in her hands as he put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer, his eyes wide with pleasure and surprise and love.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," she smiled. "You're really here? When I told you I wasn't coming?"

"I've never given up hope," he admitted, a shy look in his eye. "And I've never stopped loving you."

"I don't think I have a choice about this, do you?" she asked as she kissed him, her body already responding to his caresses. "I can't escape my love for you, Chakotay. If I'm going to keep my sanity, I have to face the truth."

Later, when they were tangled together on the bed and on the verge of sleep, she turned to him with a smile of disbelief on her face. She had never meant to admit to herself how much she loved him, much less declare her undying love to him as she had time and again that night. She had certainly never meant to continue their affair. All that had changed. Now that she'd tasted this forbidden fruit that had tantalized her for seven years, she was powerless to resist it. She wasn't even going to try.

Their eyes locked, and she saw in his face the echo of her own guilt and helplessness and love, and she saw the fear that once again she would deny reality and run away from him. She smiled and kissed him deeply, refusing to listen to the ridiculous thought that told her this was wrong, that loving this man was unacceptable. She would never hurt him again, she decided. She would never again deny that she loved him.

"What are we going to do about us, Chakotay?" She snuggled against him, burying her face in his chest. "You're with Seven. I'm with Randy. I'm about to leave for the Beta Quadrant for who knows how long."

He felt a splinter of hope pierce his heart. She was willing to talk about it. She wasn't going to pretend that she didn't love him, that their attraction was nothing more than curiosity and lust. Yet, he was just as helpless as she was in the complexity of their tangled lives, just as perplexed by how they should proceed.

He looked down at her, his heart so full of love he could hardly breathe. "I don't know what we'll do, Kathryn, I really don't. But we'll think of something. There has to be an answer."

To be continued


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Paramount rules. I'm just playing with their dolls.

Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. J/C Post-Endgame

Undeniable

By Mizvoy

Chapter 11 (Chronologically)

May 16, 2380 (Two year anniversary of Voyager's return)

Sandrine's Bar near Paris, France 2000 hours

"You guys owe me," B'Elanna Torres crowed, interrupting the pool game between her husband, Tom Paris, and Harry Kim. "I told you Seven would come."

The two men looked up to see the statuesque former drone walk into the bar with a tall, handsome stranger on her arm. They watched as the new arrivals paused to scan the room carefully, and then headed for the bar, where several of Voyager's crew greeted them.

"Who's the hunk?" Harry wondered.

"A cyberneticist from Princeton, I heard," Tom replied, leaning on his cue stick. "I'm sure he comes in handy when it's time to regulate her implants."

Harry laughed. "Anyone know who dumped whom?"

"Susan Nicoletti heard she kicked Chakotay out. Something about a woman on the side." B'Elanna shrugged, not really wanting to believe he'd do such a thing. "Probably another blond."

"Chakotay always did have a preference for blonds, although she'd have to be something special to rival Seven," Tom commented. "I heard a different version. Chell claims that Chakotay left her for another woman."

"Probably one of those stories that changes depending on who's telling it," Harry speculated. "If it's like most situations, the rumors are probably better than the truth."

"Think so?" B'Elanna chuckled. "I thought the fact that they were together at all was pretty mind-boggling. Did anyone really think they'd last?"

"You have a point," Tom sighed. "But what man would look at another woman if he had Seven waiting for him at home?"

"There are times, Tom Paris," his wife growled at him while she glared at a chuckling Harry, "when I have to remind myself that you're basically a pig."

"But you love me anyway," he said, giving her a wink before he looked back toward the bar. "There's a lot of beautiful woman there, you know. I might be married, but I'm not blind."

"I never said you were. But sometimes physical beauty isn't enough." She shook her head. "I never thought she was 'human' enough for him."

Harry grinned. "If you mean she might have some sharp edges on her implants, I'm sure he could learn to avoid them. Or file them down."

B'Elanna gave him a punch on the arm. "That's not what I meant, Harry, and you know it!" She watched Seven glancing nervously around the room, making sure, no doubt, that Chakotay was not in attendance. "This can't be easy for her, you know, first time around us since the breakup. Maybe I'll go over and offer her a sympathetic shoulder."

"Good luck." Tom winked at her as he and Harry returned to their pool game. "And don't come back until you have some details."

Voyager's second reunion was hardly the Starfleet affair the first reunion had been. Their dramatic arrival had disappeared from the current news months earlier, replaced by the terrible battle in Romulan space that had nearly destroyed Starfleet's flagship, Enterprise. Voyager's former captain, now Admiral Janeway, was too busy working on the seriously damaged relationship with the Romulans to attend the reunion, and her absence had meant that many others from the crew wouldn't bother to attend.

B'Elanna glanced around the room, counting about fifty of the former crew and another fifty or so friends, lovers, or spouses. No children were present tonight, since the party was in a bar, but there would be a few other informal gatherings coming up that would include the families. In the meantime, the familiar surroundings helped make them feel more at home, Sandrine's having been a favorite holographic retreat throughout their years in the Delta Quadrant. The party was promising to be loud and fun.

She spied Tuvok and T'Pel sitting like the eye of a hurricane in a booth near the back and decided to talk to them first and find out what they knew about the whereabouts of Chakotay. Not wanting to be obvious, however, she made a few stops along the way to check in with other members of the crew, finally arriving at their booth some thirty minutes later. She was relieved to see the Vulcan looking like his former self, apparently fully recovered from his neurological disease.

She smiled as she slipped into the bench facing them. "Hello, T'Pel. Wonderful to see you again. And you look better than ever, Tuvok. Are you returning to Starfleet soon?"

"Although my health has been restored, Lieutenant, I have decided to retire," he said, glancing briefly at his wife. "Thanks to Admiral Janeway's efforts, I've been offered a liaison position between the Vulcan Science Institute and Starfleet Academy."

"Sounds perfect. I can't think of a better person for the job." She glanced around the room as if looking for someone. "Too bad the admiral couldn't be with us tonight."

"She spoke to me earlier today via subspace to say she regretted missing the occasion. She also sent a short speech I'm to read later." Tuvok tapped the left side of his robes where he'd no doubt hidden the PADD with her downloaded message. "Her work with the Romulans is all-consuming."

"How was she?"

"I thought she looked tired and told her she should get some rest. Of course, she brushed off my recommendation, if she even heard it."

"Chakotay was the only one who could force her to take care of herself." She scowled, unhappy to hear of her former commander's condition. "Speaking of Chakotay, I can't believe he hasn't shown up either. Any idea where he might be?"

"I asked the admiral about him, as well, because I thought he might be a more appropriate individual to read her words. She indicated that he'd taken an assignment off planet some months ago and wouldn't be able to attend, either."

"An assignment?"

"She seemed unwilling or unable to specify exactly what the assignment was," he replied, cutting her off. "However, I'm sure he'd be here if he could."

She could tell from the tone of his voice that she'd gotten all the news she could from him, so she gradually wound down the conversation and made her way to the bar. As she expected, there was a halo of empty space around Seven, and the date looked more than a little bored. B'Elanna couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"Hello, Seven." She settled on the bar stool next to the former drone and ordered a glass of wine. "Who's this handsome stranger you've brought with you tonight?"

"B'Elanna Torres, please meet my colleague at Princeton, Aaron Olson." She turned to her date, as efficient and terse as ever. "B'Elanna was Voyager's chief engineer."

The three of them exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes before Aaron excused himself to use the restroom and B'Elanna finally got Seven alone. "I thought you'd be here with Chakotay," she said, deciding to use the direct approach. "Have you two really broken up?"

"Chakotay has taken a job in the Beta Sector. We are no longer engaged or involved romantically, although he remains a friend." Her factual delivery of the news made B'Elanna wonder just how upsetting the breakup had been to her.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Seven. Is this a job he'd been searching for?"

"I think not. Professor Ramirez, the chief of the Federation Cultural Exchange Commission, contacted him about it just a day or two before he left. He seemed to be excited about the posting and in a great hurry to leave."

"Well, that makes me feel a little better. That might explain why he left without telling us goodbye or leaving instructions on how to reach him or anything."

"I'm sure that was an oversight on his part."

"What kind of job is it?" B'Elanna wondered, genuinely curious. She'd never considered the possibility that her oldest friend might disappear without so much as a fare-thee-well and couldn't help but feel a little upset by his slight.

"I believe he said it was a cultural survey of Remus."

"Remus?" The half-Klingon woman didn't try to hide her surprise. Remus was the sister planet to Romulas and the recent source of much of the upheaval in the Romulan Empire. Some claimed that the Remans were responsible for the assassination of the entire Romulan senate and maybe even the attack that had nearly destroyed Enterprise.

But of even more interest to Chakotay would be the strange culture that had developed on the planet over the centuries, a slave population living on a planet that kept one side constantly toward the sun. She could see how the opportunity would be impossible to turn down. But, at the same time, she couldn't help but wonder if the chance to work closely with his former captain might have also come into play. "That's Janeway's current assignment, right? Isn't she involved with the Romulan situation?"

The blond stiffened slightly, a blush crawling up her neck. "I believe she was leading the Federation diplomatic team assigned to the area, but I don't know if that included the cultural survey of Remus." She looked around, spying her date standing by alone on the other side of the room. "If you'll excuse me. I promised Aaron not to leave him stranded for long."

"No, please, go ahead. We'll talk more later."

B'Elanna remained at the bar, her head filled with possible explanations for Chakotay's sudden disappearance and his absence tonight. Seven had acted uneasy when she'd mentioned the admiral's name. Instead of finding answers, she felt as if she'd found a whole new set of questions.

Had Janeway found the job for Chakotay and asked Ramirez to offer it to him? Had Seven and Janeway had a falling out because of Chakotay's departure? Was there connection between this plum job and its proximity to Admiral Janeway? Could it be that Voyager's former command team had finally acted on the attraction they had always seemed to have for each other?

She glanced at Tom at the pool table where he was racking up the balls for another victim, obviously having a wonderful time. He'd be the champion tonight, since Janeway was gone. She smiled to herself when she imagined how he would react to the location of Chakotay's new job, not to mention the dozens of questions about the details. He'd be sure there was more here than met the eye, and would be determined to find a way to discover the truth.

She wouldn't be surprised at all if the old Janeway/Chakotay betting pool was reactivated before the party was over.

To be continued . . .


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Paramount rules. I'm just playing with their dolls.

Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. J/C Post-Endgame

Undeniable

By Mizvoy

Chapter 12 (Chronologically)

May 16, 2380 (two year anniversary of Voyager's return)

Remus (sister planet to Romulus) Beta Quadrant

When he received a call from Raoul Dugan, the lead anthropologist on the cultural survey group assigned to Remus, Chakotay had accepted a position on the team without a second thought. How could he pass up the opportunity to be one of the first Federation scientists to visit the highly secret, slave-inhabited planet in close orbit with Romulus? It was exactly the kind of job he'd been hoping to find, and, once he'd accepted the position, he'd been frantic to get there as quickly as possible.

But, that had been six months earlier. In the meantime, Chakotay had come to detest his life on the Q-class planet. Remus did not rotate on its axis, which meant that it had three distinctive zones—a cold zone in constant shadow, a habitable zone that ranged from freezing to tropical, and a hot zone in constant sunlight. He always missed the rhythm of a planet's day and night, even when scientists recreated it artificially, as they did on Earth's Lunar colonies. But he missed it even more here, where there was no concession whatever to the circadian cycle native to earth.

And while the research team's offices and apartments were located in the most temperate section of the habitable zone, Chakotay was still bothered by the constancy of the light. There were no periods of twilight in the early day or late evening, no blinding sunlight of midday, just an invariable level of light, day in and day out. It was no wonder that he and most of the rest of the team escaped to Romulus every ten days or so for a couple of days of rest and relaxation, for a sunrise and sunset, if nothing else.

He sat at his desk trying to finish editing the next to last section of the team's report, but found himself growing bored, his mind wandering. He looked out the window at Romulus and sighed, wishing he could simply transport himself there for a nice long vacation. His thoughts were interrupted when his boss came into his cubicle and perched on the corner of his desk.

"Coming with us to the beach this weekend?" Dugan followed Chakotay's gaze out the window at Remus' sister planet. "Connie found us rooms at an inn this time instead of the hostel. It's right across the street from a four-star restaurant. And there's a really nice dance club on the corner."

"Wish I could, but I've got to finish proofing this section of the report for Professor Ramirez." He shrugged. In his five months on Remus, he sometimes stayed behind to work and to observe the populace in their more relaxed moments. He found he learned as much from his stays on Remus during those lonely weekends as he did from the team's more deliberate surveys of the population. He also treasured the privacy those weekends afforded him, the chance to participate in activities that might be considered newsworthy by his fellow team members.

"Well, just don't freeze to death out there." Raoul gave him a wink as he stood up and headed for the team's residence next door. "I'll leave the coordinates of the inn in your comm unit in case you change your mind."

Chakotay watched the team leave and then packed up his desk. He'd chosen not to live with the rest of the team, preferring to find a place of his own near the cold zone where he could immerse himself in the planet's unique culture and cope with its relentless climate. It wasn't that unusual for an anthropologist to "rough it" in order to increase his understanding of the culture being studied, and so no one had really questioned his motives. Some of the most dramatic observations had come about as a direct result of information he discovered thanks to his unique living arrangements.

After the team's noisy departure, he walked out of the Federation mission building and toward the permanent twilight of the planet's dark side. He could hear the never-ending grind of the mining equipment in the frozen zone, see the glare of the artificial lights create an orange glow on the horizon, smell the distinctive stench of the refineries. He could also feel the temperature drop and the light grow dimmer with each step he took.

If the Federation planed to keep a permanent presence on Remus, they would have to build a habitation dome to duplicate the more normal light patterns, he thought to himself. No humanoid species would choose to live like this for months at a time, and his heart went out to the slaves and the slavers who had endured this abnormality for centuries. He zipped his jacket against the cold as he made his way through the dingy, dirty maze of streets, smiling as he thought of Raoul's initial reaction to his decision to live in this particular section of "the economy."

"Why not stay with the rest of us?" he'd argued. "Or at least rent something closer to the temp zone? Those apartments are barely habitable, and the crime rate is off the scales."

"I'm here to study the Reman culture," Chakotay had answered. "How better to do that than to live with them where they live? Besides," he'd grinned, "I've lived in worse conditions."

But, that was a lie, he realized. He'd never lived in worse conditions. However, the apartment, barely livable, freezing cold, and terribly lonely, did give him the privacy and independence he craved. He'd invited a few of the team to visit him for a meal in the first few weeks, but none had ever accepted a second invitation and eventually left him alone. In the meantime, he'd made friends with everyone in his courtyard and had been included in several group celebrations and meals that he would have otherwise missed, experiences he knew would fuel some important personal papers once the assignment ended.

By the time he was halfway home, the temperature had dropped to near freezing and he was pulling up his hood, donning his mittens, and shoving his hands deep into his pockets, grateful, at least, that the wind was behind him. He wrapped a scarf around his face to protect his skin from dehydration, knowing that it would be stiff with ice from his breath long before he arrived home. Just as the cold was about to reach his bones, he arrived at his courtyard and let himself in to the common area the eight apartments shared, really little more than a wide hallway that was a degree or two above freezing.

The windowless apartment was so tiny, two small rooms and a bath the size of a closet, that Chakotay sometimes felt as if he were wearing it. The strictly limited and very expensive heat was programmed to come on fifteen minutes before his arrival and shut down four hours later, about the time he crawled into bed. To use any more power than that would be an extravagant waste.

He had no doubt that all of the other residents in the courtyard visited his rooms on a regular basis to look for contraband, and he was careful to leave just enough lying around to satisfy them. Tonight, he noticed, half of loaf of bread had disappeared along with a couple of tomato-like fruits he'd come to tolerate and his entire store of hard candy. He shrugged and pulled out the dinner supplies he'd brought from the office, thinking he'd gotten off easy this time.

Following his meal, he listened to soft music and edited the report, keeping his mind focused on the work until he heard the heat shut off and felt the cold crept into his body until it forced him to get up and find a warmer place. Exhausted from the loss of body heat and the tedious work, he quickly shut down his PADD, raced through his bedtime ritual, and crawled into his Starfleet arctic sleeping bag fully dressed. Once he began to warm up, he peeled off his clothes and snuggled deeper into the sleeping bag, reaching out to slide open a tiny observation port that let him gaze at Romulus overhead, a beam of its creamy light falling across the bed.

He had visited Kathryn discreetly when three of his weekend trips to Romulus coincided with her visits there. Her luxury hotel suite was conveniently located between the beach and the hostel the team preferred, and he'd found it easy to wander away from the others and disappear for hours at a time. No one ever asked him where he'd gone or what he'd been doing. He suspected that no one cared.

But those hours with her had been a precious gift, the only thing that made his duty on Remus bearable and, when he was honest with himself, an underlying reason he had taken the posting in the first place. He recalled how, on one warm evening, they had opened the windows to the sea breeze that blew the curtains and brought the smell of flowers into the room. They'd slept there in a tangled pile on her large, comfortable bed, comforted by the distant sound of the surf and the subdued traffic on the street below. That night, it had been the reflected light of Remus that had illuminated the room, and the temperature had been warm, the air moist and perfumed, her body warm and soft curled next to his.

He slid the observation slot shut with a crack and pulled the sleeping bag over his head. Kathryn and the diplomatic team traveled almost constantly and were currently spending three weeks at Starbase 718 at a conference of some sort. Even though he and Kathryn hadn't served together in years, he found himself missing her more than he thought possible. He reminded himself that his stay on Remus would be over in just two months, yet that realization just brought insecurity about the next step in their relationship.

She occasionally surprised him by coming to him at his apartment. That was the other reason for living on the economy and separate from the others. Five times she had beamed down to his courtyard without warning, teasing him about sneaking in and finding another woman in his bed. The relationship hadn't floundered, and Kathryn seemed more willing to "go public" with their love affair as they managed to stay together and maintain their affection for each other.

"When the time's right," she promised him, "we'll simply start showing up places together and let everyone jump to conclusions."

He rolled over, trying to find a comfortable position so he could fall asleep. The apartment was never quiet, even in the dead of night. The walls were so thin that he could hear one neighbor using the bathroom and the other neighbor's heated argument with his roommate over whose turn it was to do the laundry. The wind rattled against the building, nearly drowning out the constant bang and creak of the heating system as it struggled to keep the water pipes from freezing. And in the background he could hear the constant hum of mining equipment as the work in the frozen sector continued tirelessly. But, he had learned to sleep in spite of the noise and noise and was soon snoring softly in his narrow bed, oblivious to the cacophony that surrounded him.

A few hours later a small person slipped quietly into the room, careful not to awaken him. Small and light, the visitor glided through the apartment without a sound, systematically visiting the tiny galley and bath before coming to him in his bed, leaning over him, a hand reaching out to grab his shoulder.

"Let me in, Chakotay, before I freeze solid."

"Kathryn?" He sat up and stared at her shadowed form, automatically opening the sleeping bag to her as his face broke into a brilliant smile, thrilled with the sheer joy of seeing her again. "How many times do I have to tell you not to take off your clothes until you're in bed?"

"I was afraid I'd wake you up squirming around undressing." She crawled in, shivering with hypothermia and putting her icy feet against his legs. "How do you endure this relentless cold?"

"Thoughts of you keep me warm," he joked as he wrapped his arms and legs around her and drew the sleeping bag shut around them both. "Did it occur to you that having an icicle climb into bed with me would also wake me up?"

"I guess not," she chuckled, her teeth chattering. "I was too cold to think."

He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the familiar citrus aroma of her shampoo. "I didn't think you'd be back until day after tomorrow. I didn't think I'd see you again until next weekend."

"I couldn't bear the thought of another boring reception or another week without you, so I volunteered to come back and see if I could review an advance copy of your report for Ramirez." She smiled when he groaned at her comment. "That is, if I get around to reading it."

"I spent all night editing it." Then he realized she must be joking. "Kathryn, after seven years of practice, I can write a report that will suit someone even as picky as you."

"Well, I might've had an ulterior motive in coming back early." She was thawing out nicely and managed to mold her body closer to his. "Have you checked the Terran calendar lately? Do you know what today is?"

"You mean Tom's party at Sandrine's? Voyager's second anniversary?"

"I should've known you'd remember." She kissed him tenderly, stretching her body against his in the growing warmth of the sleeping bag. "Do you think they miss us?"

"They're probably speculating about our mutual assignment in the Romulan sector." He shifted slightly, sliding his legs down beside hers. He didn't want to think about the reunion, much less talk about it, still feeling guilty about his quick departure and the half truth he'd told Seven of Nine about his reason for taking the job.

"You're worried about Seven's reaction to our being posted together, aren't you? You're afraid she'll be embarrassed or teased."

"I never meant to hurt her. She did absolutely nothing wrong."

He remembered the day he'd informed Seven of his decision to join the survey team on Remus. Since his last brief tryst with Kathryn a few weeks earlier in San Francisco, he'd been distracted and distant, his thoughts constantly straying to his former captain, wondering where she was, whether she was thinking of him. But if Seven had sensed his withdrawal from her, she had simply tolerated it as part of the continuing struggle involved in human intimacy, to use her words. She'd wanted to think his departure was purely professional and not necessarily the end of their relationship.

"It's a perfect opportunity for you," she'd observed. "And it's fortunate that the admiral will be close by. Would it be possible for me to join you after I complete the spring semester?"

"No," he'd replied a little too quickly, "the Romulans are limiting the number of individuals allowed on the teams."

"I see. Then this is a separation of extended length?"

He'd taken her hand, forcing himself to say what he should've said months earlier. "Seven, I won't be coming back."

She'd blinked, momentarily confused. "But you will eventually return to the Federation. To Earth."

"That's not what I meant."

Her eyes widened slightly. "You wish to terminate our relationship?"

He'd reminded her of their earlier conversation, their need to reevaluate the "exclusivity" of their relationship. They'd talked for hours, and she'd listened to him patiently as he'd explained his need to move on, her need to find someone better suited for her. She hadn't cried, a fact that had left him both relieved and worried.

Kathryn's voice brought him back to the present. "Chakotay? Did you hear me?"

"I'm sorry. I must be tired."

"I just said that I've missed you. How long has it been since we were together? A month? I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

"I missed you, too."

"This time last year, we hadn't seen each other in eight months. Now we can't stand to be apart for a fraction of that time."

He smiled down at her, brushing her long hair out of her eyes with his hand. She was right about their growing need to be together. Much to his relief, their passion hadn't cooled, but had simply become a deep and abiding bond between them. "I'm afraid, Kathryn, that you'll get tired of me if you see me too often."

She closed her eyes, pushing her cheek into his palm. "Never."

"What would the crew have done if we'd walked into Sandrine's together tonight?"

She chuckled. "Harry Kim might've needed oxygen."

"You realize, of course, that because you aren't there, Tom Paris will probably win the pool tournament and hold it over your head as long as possible."

"He can do it for a year, no more. Next year, we'll go to the reunion together, Chakotay, and I'll put him in his place." She opened her eyes and studied his face. "You will be with me this time next year, won't you?"

He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. Was it possible that Kathryn Janeway, the most confident, independent woman he'd ever met, actually thought she might lose him? "I plan to be with you as long as you'll have me, Kathryn."

"A life sentence then?"

"A lifetime isn't long enough for me to show you how much I love you."

"I love you, too, Chakotay." She wrapped her arms around him. "I wonder whether Tom's started that damn betting pool again?"

"To be honest, Kathryn, I doubt that he ever called it off."

"I wonder if it's too late to place a bet?"

He chuckled. "That would be poetic justice."

They fell asleep in each other's arms, cocooned in the warmth of their mutual love, happy to be together at last, even if it was only for a short while.

To be continued


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Paramount rules. I'm just playing with their dolls.

Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. J/C Post-Endgame

Undeniable

by Mizvoy

Chapter 13 (Chronologically)

May 16, 2381 (Three year anniversary of Voyager's return)

Sandrine's Sandrine's Bar near Paris, France 2000 hours

"Do you think they'll ever get married?" B'Elanna Torres asked her husband as they watched Voyager's former command team work the room together. Kathryn Janeway looked radiant, her smile brightening the face of every person she met, and Chakotay seemed unable to venture more than two feet away from her. "They can't take their eyes off of each other. It's kind of sweet."

"I think they've been 'married' for years, if the truth be known," Tom Paris allowed. "I think they were destined to end up together."

B'Elanna snorted. "Tom Paris? A romantic?"

"Just observant," he shrugged. "Remember I listened to them whispering on the bridge for years. The electricity nearly stood my hair on end."

"Sure," she teased. "That's why you won the betting pool."

"The winner was a late-arriving wager, and anonymous, too. I shouldn't have allowed it in." He scowled, obviously unhappy about the outcome. "I still wonder if 'Spying Monkey' was Chakotay."

B'Elanna laughed. "I hope so. I'd be poetic justice if he won!"

Harry Kim stood up on a chair in the middle of the bar and bellowed for everyone's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen. And you, too, Tom!" The crew laughed. "The time has come for the first real pool tournament since Voyager arrived home three years ago. And, Tom, before you start complaining, last year's doesn't count because the admiral wasn't here to defend her title! The sign-up sheet has only two names—Kathryn Janeway and Tom Paris. The rest of us knew better than to try. So, rack up the balls, get a fresh drink, and grab a seat. The show is about to begin."

Tom Paris approached the table where Kathryn stood chalking her cue. Behind her, leaning against the bar, Chakotay nursed a beer and watched the two friends begin their inevitable banter. It had been two years since he'd attended a reunion. He and Kathryn had been in the Beta Quadrant the year before, and he was delighted to see so many old friends and coworkers. Some of the relationships, like the mock competition between Kathryn and Tom, seemed to have survived with little change.

The crew had been most receptive to the fact that the command team had become a couple. In fact, most of them had made no comment whatsoever about their joint arrival or their constant togetherness at Starfleet functions, acting as if they'd always been a couple. Of course, it helped that tonight Seven of Nine wasn't attending the reunion. Sooner or later, he figured, the three of them would have to meet and work through their complicated relationship, come to an understanding of what had happened and why. But, that was something he'd face in the future. Tonight, he was simply enjoying being with Kathryn and reconnecting with their Voyager "family" again.

Tom gave Kathryn a sly smile before he teased her by saying, "Are you using the commander's 'stick' this time, Admiral?"

"Of course," she smirked, glancing back a Chakotay with a wink. "It's a perfect fit."

Tom laughed and picked out a cue of his own. "I hope you know I've been practicing day and night. I'm not the pushover I used to be."

The chatter continued as B'Elanna made her way to him at the bar. "Can I tear you away from watching your date?" she asked Chakotay. "I can't remember the last time we had a chance to talk."

"I don't either. And besides, I don't really enjoy watching a slaughter," he replied, chuckling. He gestured toward the nearly empty booths along the back wall. "We should have all the privacy we need back here."

They slid into the benches facing each other just as a cheer went up from the crowd surrounding the pool table. "Sounds like the admiral broke well again."

Chakotay smiled. "She's been looking forward to this reunion for a long time, including the chance to reclaim her title as pool champion. She's changed a lot the last year or so—she's more relaxed and at ease."

"I can see the difference. Maybe you'd prefer to watch?"

"That's okay. We need to talk."

"You seem happy, Chakotay, and I'm glad. In fact, you practically glow with happiness."

He ducked his head. "I love her, B'Elanna, and, by some miracle, she loves me back."

"Yes, she obviously does." She leaned forward and squeezed his hand. "But then, she always loved you."

"You say that," he sighed, looking away, "but I was never really sure about how she felt. There were times that she seemed to care, but she always refused to discuss anything beyond friendship. After awhile, I guess I just gave up."

"She couldn't get involved with you out there, Chakotay. The task of leading us was just too all-consuming. Besides, she wasn't going to indulge herself when so many of the crew were alone or missing their spouses." B'Elanna sat back with a sigh. "She couldn't take the risk, and she was scared to death she'd hurt you."

"Because of that, I moved on and in the process I hurt Seven of Nine." He took a long drink from his beer. "I regret that more than anything else, hurting someone who was an innocent bystander. I took advantage of Seven's inexperience and need for security."

"I have a hard time thinking of Seven as innocent." She laughed at his doubtful frown. "Look, you were her first love affair, and you were the perfect person for that. You helped her come to terms with all the joy and pain that human relationships create, and you were incredibly tolerant of her Borg idiosyncrasies. Besides, how many first loves last a lifetime?"

Another cheer went up from the crowd and they saw Kathryn raise her cue in triumph. "What are they playing?" he wondered. "Best two out of three?"

"Tom needs a better chance than that, Chakotay. Best three out of five. We still have time to talk." In spite of her words, they were silent a long time, watching the crew as they reacted to the pool game, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence.

He finally looked up. "Have you talked to her? Seven, I mean?"

"A couple of months ago, she came through San Francisco and spent a few hours with Tom and me. She was on her way to Vulcan to study the Kohlinar, thanks to Tuvok's suggestion and sponsorship. She's one of the first humans accepted into the program."

"The Vulcan training to purge emotion?" Chakotay grew thoughtful, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, he regretted drinking the beer. "That actually makes sense. She was never comfortable with what she called the 'chaos' of human emotions once her Borg dampener was removed. She didn't like to lose control of herself and at one point even begged the doc to replace it. She was quite put out with him when he refused to even consider doing it."

B'Elanna studied her friend. "She didn't like to lose control? What about . . . well, what about . . . ?"

"What about it?" he countered with a grin, guessing what she was talking about and shaking his head at her audacity. "She was as efficient in bed as she was everywhere else."

"I can hear her now. 'The average time period allotted for foreplay has ended. Copulation may now commence.'"

For a moment Chakotay sat in shocked silence, but then he couldn't help but smile sadly and look away. "You don't know how close that is to the truth, B'Elanna."

"You feel bad about her," B'Elanna realized. "You think that Seven's escape to Vulcan is your fault?" Another cheer went up from the pool area, and this time when Kathryn caught Chakotay's eye she winked and gestured for him to order her some wine. "Looks like the admiral plans to join us very shortly."

He waved down a waitress and ordered a glass of chablis. "Poor Tom," he said, sipping his beer and watching Kathryn slowly and deliberately circle the table like a predator. "Kathryn has every intention of making him pay for claiming Voyager's pool championship in her absence. She'll show him no mercy."

"She's been practicing, hasn't she?" B'Elanna whispered, leaning across the table.

"I've been sworn to secrecy."

B'Elanna laughed. "Look, Chakotay, I don't know what you and Seven had together. After Voyager got back, we weren't around each other much. Maybe, under other circumstances, you two might have been happy. But not with Janeway around."

"Kathryn was around when I started seeing Seven," he argued. "I made a conscious choice to start dating her while we were still on Voyager."

"Oh, right. She was around, but she was also the captain." She took his hand and forced him to look at her. "You can't deny that you've always loved her. Tom says that you two always loved each other, and I'm just beginning to realize he's right."

"When Kathryn and I met again a while back . . . when we realized that all the reasons for denying how we felt were gone . . . we couldn't help ourselves." He looked up at her, his eyes tortured. "We couldn't deny any longer that we wanted to be together. Even if our being together hurt Seven of Nine."

"So be together. Be happy. Seven will adapt." B'Elanna sat back, enjoying the chance to help her oldest friend think through his problems. "Are you going to tell me how you and the admiral finally got together?"

"Oh, you know. The usual scenario. Our eyes met across a crowded room and we were pulled toward each other like magnets. We made our way to each other through the crowd, and then, nine short years later, bingo." He snapped his fingers. "Everything fell into place."

"I love those whirlwind romances," she chuckled, giving him a wink. "But truthfully. How did you two finally get together? Did it happen during the Romulan mission?" She leaned forward again, obviously eaten up with curiosity. "Or did it happen before that? Did your paths cross one dark night out in space when no one was around? Lonely and on your own, you turned to each other at last . . . and then you knew it had to be?"

A final roar interrupted them, and they saw Kathryn heading for their booth with a sly smile on her face, while behind her Tom watched her walk away, smirking as he idly pulled the balls from pool table's pockets and tossed them onto the table.

"Whatever are you two talking about?" Kathryn asked as she sat down and gave Chakotay a celebratory kiss on the cheek. "You look like B'Elanna is about to nail you to the wall."

"He was in the process of telling me how you two finally got together."

"Oh, he was, was he?" She turned and smiled at him. "This should be good."

"He said you saw each other across a crowded room and realized you were in love, just like that."

"No, that wasn't it," Kathryn said, sliding her arm around Chakotay. "It was a dark and stormy night in the city by the bay . . . and there he was, wandering around, lost and cold, looking for all the world like a homeless waif. What was I to do, let him drown? Let him sleep in the alley? I brought him into the house and gave him some warm milk. You could almost say he followed me home."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "So don't tell me," she complained as Tom arrived. "The tournament's over all ready?"

Tom Paris plopped onto the bench next to his wife with a groan. "Three out of five means three very brief games when you're playing the admiral. I didn't even get to take a shot until the last game, and by then I was so totally demoralized that I missed by a mile." He turned to his wife for sympathy. "B'Elanna, dance with me before I become too depressed to move."

The younger couple vacated the booth with a wave, leaving Kathryn and Chakotay alone, snuggled close on the bench. "You could've let him win one game, Kathryn."

"He's been crowing for a year that he's the best pool player on Voyager's crew," she replied, leaning against him, her competitive fires burning. "He had it coming."

Chakotay chuckled and pulled her closer. "Winner and still champion."

"You heard about Seven, didn't you?" she asked him, grimacing when he nodded. "I knew that the news would bother you. I know it bothers me. The Kohlinar? Did we do that to her, Chakotay, hurt her so badly she wants to repress all emotion? Should we go talk to her and help her get over this?"

"The last thing she needs is to see us together, Kathryn. We need to give her some room to grow. I think, when the time's right, she'll come to us. Or to you, actually." He grew thoughtful.

"Or maybe she'll finally turn to the one person who really loves her—the EMH."

"Those two have more in common than I realized. And he does love her."

"Love's a wonderful thing, you know." She turned to him, her eyes luminous with tears. "It can work miracles."

"Love is a miracle." He gave her a gentle kiss.

"I wish I could've done things differently, Chakotay. If so, you never would've turned to Seven and nobody would've been hurt."

"We all do the best we can, Kathryn. She'll live through this and be better for it."

"Do you really think so?"

"I predict that she'll be here next year, probably with a new boyfriend in tow, and that she'll find a way to forgive us for what we did to her. The person she admires most in the world taught her to give people a second chance and to never stop believing in them. She won't ever forget that lesson."

"You mean she admires me most?" Kathryn whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I hope you're right. I hope she gives us a second chance."

"I'm willing to put my winnings on the line."

She smiled, wiping the tear off of her cheek with the back of her hand. "Has Tom asked you yet if you're Spying Monkey?"

"No, but he wants to." He leaned forward, nuzzling her hair, his warm breath tickling her ear and sending goose bumps down her neck. "What do you say we get out of here?"

"If we leave this early," she said, giving him a crooked smile, "people will talk."

"People are talking anyway, Kathryn."

They said their farewells, explaining that, at their age, midnight was late enough to be out partying, and soon found themselves walking through the small town toward the cottage they'd rented for their week-long stay in the area. The night was breathtakingly beautiful, the sky brilliant with starlight, and the bright ribbon of the Milky Way seemed even more prominent than usual, reminding Kathryn of their recent journey through the middle of it.

Chakotay noticed her staring at the sky. "Thinking about the Delta Quadrant?"

"Actually, I was," she smiled, taking his hand. "I've told you how much your friendship meant to me out there, how much credit you should take for helping me keep what I have left of my sanity." She stopped and turned to him, taking his other hand. "But I failed to mention that I was also deeply in love with you. For a long, long time."

He stepped closer, bringing her hands to his chest. "Friendship is a wonderful foundation for a lasting relationship, I've been told."

"We almost lost this, Chakotay," she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. "And I'm not sure how we managed to find each other again."

"If I had asked you one day, out there on Voyager, whether or not you loved me, what would you have said?"

"I don't know. I probably would've evaded the question, said something like, 'I love the whole crew,' or 'I've never cared for any officer more.' I don't think I would even have admitted to myself that I loved you. I couldn't."

"But you wouldn't have denied it, would you? You would never have said you didn't love me."

"No, Chakotay, I wouldn't have denied it."

He slipped his arms around her and pulled her close. "There are some relationships that won't be denied. Ours is one of them. Once we were home, once we admitted our feelings for each other, we were destined to be together. We found ourselves looking for each other."

"Destiny." She turned slightly in his arms and looked up at the ribbon of light that was their galaxy. "Of course. That's what it had to be."

"Kathryn Janeway believes in fate?" He leaned down and kissed her. "Now I've heard everything."

She moaned with pleasure and held his face between her hands, looking deep into his eyes. "I love you, Chakotay. I think I always have."

"At last, you're willing to tell the truth."

They slid their arms around each other's waists and resumed their leisurely walk toward their cabin. "You know," she said, leaning into his side, "there is one activity we mystics enjoy even when it's after midnight."

"A bubble bath?" he guessed, showing her his dimples.

"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind," she laughed, giving him a wink, "but, as long as it's a bubble bath for two, it's a start!"

To be continued


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Paramount rules. I'm just playing with their dolls.

Summary: A series of chance meetings reminds Janeway and Chakotay of the inevitability of their relationship. J/C Post-Endgame

Undeniable

by Mizvoy

Chapter 14 (Chronologically)

September 16, 2381 (three years four months after Voyager's return)

Mark Hopkins Intergalactic Hotel Suite 818 0600 hours

"Did you hear a knock at the door?" Kathryn Janeway asked as she lifted her head from Chakotay's chest. She'd been sleeping soundly, curled around his warm body, and she couldn't be sure whether she'd heard a knock or dreamt it. She leaned forward, giving him a kiss to awaken him. "Chakotay?"

He rolled toward her, sliding his hand around her waist as he buried his face in her neck. "Ignore it. It's probably just the maid."

"At this hour?" She moaned, his breath delightful against her shoulder, and gave him better access to her ear before pulling away with an appreciative sigh. "I'll get up and see about it. I have to use the bathroom anyway."

"Just hurry back," he mumbled, stifling a yawn as he snuggled into the warm spot she'd left behind. "It's cold in here without you."

She heard a second tap at the door as she scurried to the bathroom for a quick stop and then snagged the hotel's terrycloth robe on her way back through the bedroom. Chakotay still slept on his side, snoring softly, his hair tousled, his face softened with sleep. She studied him as she pulled the robe over her nakedness, and a strong rush of affection washed over her. She wished she could ignore the interruption and snuggle back into his arms, but the last thing they needed was to have an overzealous maid walk in on them with a stack of fresh towels. Well, she decided, whoever was at the door, getting rid of them shouldn't take long.

She walked into the living area and briefly surveyed the damage they'd done the previous evening. Their two small bags were just inside the door, right where they'd dropped them as they'd rushed into the suite. Because their assignments to the Beta Quadrant had precluded this annual reunion the previous year, they'd been anxious to remind themselves of their first time together, more than ready to openly acknowledge what had seemed such a dramatic surprise and a dangerous secret two years earlier.

In case the stranger needed access to the suite, Kathryn cruised through the room picking up the clothing that was strewn between the door and the living area and then replacing the sofa's cushions that they'd tossed aside to give them more room to snuggle. After she'd flung their clothes into the bedroom and pulled the door shut, she headed for the door as the visitor knocked a third time, this time more insistently. Snagging her bra from the back of the sofa and stuffing it into her pocket, she reminded herself not to get angry just because the maid had erroneously disturbed them or because some overzealous Starfleet ensign had tracked her down for a signature.

She was nearly to the door when she finally acknowledged that she was awake and on her way. "Who is it?" she hissed.

"It's Seven of Nine, Admiral. I need to talk to you."

Kathryn stopped dead in her tracks, too stunned to move. _Seven of Nine?_ She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the bedroom door was shut and then looked through the peephole. Sure enough, the tall blond stood waiting impatiently in the hallway, looking for the world like she'd just stepped out of a beauty parlor, her hair neatly coiffed, her makeup perfect, her blue-grey business suit snug and fashionable. Meanwhile, Kathryn thought, I look like I just got out of bed after a night of too much wine, too little sleep, and too much Chakotay.

With a sigh of resignation, she pulled her hands through her tangled hair and then opened the door. "Hello, Seven. I don't guess I should ask how you found out where I was."

Seven raised an eyebrow to see her former captain in such obvious disarray, even at this early hour. "I believe his name was Lieutenant Junior Grade Liam McGee."

"Soon to be Ensign McGee," Kathryn mumbled as she stepped back, gesturing for Seven to enter. She panicked slightly when she realized how awkward it was to be meeting with Seven while Chakotay was sleeping in the next room, but then she simply pushed the thought aside, refusing to feel guilty any longer. Chakotay's relationship with Seven had ended more than a year earlier, and everyone, including Seven, was aware of Chakotay's new romance with his former captain. "You're here and I'm awake, so we might as well talk."

"I regret interrupting you on what is obviously a romantic interlude," Seven stated as she perched on the edge of the sofa, "but I have some important decisions to make and wanted to discuss them with you first."

"I'm flattered that you want my opinion, Seven," Kathryn said as she headed for the replicator. "But at this hour, I need some coffee before I can give advice about anything. Can I get you something?"

"No, thank you." She waited as Kathryn carried a large mug to the other end of the sofa and sank into the cushions with a contented smile on her face. "It's good to see you again, Admiral."

"Please, call me Kathryn." She took a deep draft of the coffee, groaning in satisfaction. She looked at Seven more carefully. "You look wonderful. When was the last time we met?"

"Almost two years ago. The Federation Day celebration at your mother's house. Chakotay and I attended together."

Kathryn remembered a hot day in Indiana, a large group of family and friends gathered around the Janeway family home for a picnic. It was just a few weeks after her second tryst with Chakotay at the Mark Hopkins, and she'd been sure that the former Borg had detected the electricity that had filled the air between herself and Chakotay. Kathryn had diligently avoided him all through that day, making sure that they were never alone, only to run into him in the empty house while everyone else walked to the town square to watch the fireworks display.

That dangerous, impulsive hour in her bedroom, their bodies tangling in the dazzling light of the pyrotechnics, convinced both of them that they needed to make permanent changes in their lives before their affair was discovered and before innocent people were hurt. The very next day, Kathryn had contacted Raoul Dugan and suggested Chakotay's name as a perfect addition to the Remus study group, setting into motion the events that had led to their being together today.

"Ah, yes, the picnic." She swallowed, hoping Seven would ignore the blush she could feel crawling up her neck. She redirected the conversation to safer ground, "I heard at the reunion in May that you've been on Vulcan studying the Kohlinar."

"Yes. A waste of time. As a human I cannot repress my emotions, but must learn to manage them. I might have realized my error if I had spoken to you first."

"Most humans wish they had better control of their emotions," Kathryn comforted her, conscious of the irony of her words. If she and Chakotay had been able to control their love for each other, things would have turned out much differently. "And you might've talked to me first if you hadn't felt as if I'd betrayed you. You must have felt that both Chakotay and I were disloyal to you, the way things have turned out."

"Actually, I believe I owe both of you an apology."

Kathryn nearly strangled on her coffee. "I think," she finally said, looking her former protégé in the eye, "that we are the ones who should apologize to you."

"No. You love each other." Seven shook her head, looking a little ashamed. "I knew that sex could happen without love. I knew that a purely physical relationship was possible. But, I also thought that love inevitably resulted in sex, that individuals who were in love with each other would express that affection through the act of love." She paused, gripping her hands in her lap. "And since I knew that you and Chakotay weren't involved in a physical relationship, I naturally assumed you weren't in love with each other."

"Love doesn't always result in sex, that's true. But whether we were in love with each other was irrelevant on Voyager. We would never have acted on that love, and I would never have interfered with your relationship with him there." She looked away, struggling to come to terms with her behavior. "But, once we were home . . . ."

"It doesn't matter, Kathryn. Although I came to care for him, I chose Chakotay for logical, non-emotional reasons. He reminded me of Axum."

Kathryn nodded. "Your friend from Unimatrix Zero. I remember meeting him."

"They are very much alike. And Chakotay was older, wiser, more experienced. He didn't look at me the way most of the other males did, as if I were a morsel of food to be consumed."

Kathryn winced. "Is that the way it felt when they looked at you?"

She shrugged, having come to terms with her sexual attraction many years earlier. "After I was with Chakotay for awhile," Seven continued, "I became used to being with him, and I was happy with him, but . . . he never really seemed happy to be with me. And I never really stopped thinking about Axum."

Kathryn set her empty mug on the coffee table and slumped into the cushions, feeling a wave a guilt for the part she'd played in Seven's unhappiness. "You came to understand all this on Vulcan?"

"Yes, with much help. I finally understand, Kathryn, how different love can be. I love both you and Chakotay, but as parents or friends or mentors. In many ways, I'm gratified to think of you as being together. You should be together."

Kathryn felt tears sting her eyes and rubbed her face with her hands. Seven's generosity and kindness affected her deeply. It was too early in the morning for such a serious discussion, and she was tempted to ask her friend why this couldn't have waited until later in the day. Or later in the week, for that matter. "And this is what you wanted to discuss with me?"

"Not entirely." She pulled a PADD from the satchel she'd carried in with her. "I also wanted your reaction to this."

Kathryn activated the PADD and scrolled through the data. "Deep space scans?"

"From a probe launched some months ago in the Gamma Quadrant."

"It's too early in the day for me to figure this out," Kathryn complained, pinching the bridge of her nose as a headache threatened. "What exactly am I looking for?"

"Starfleet has asked me to interpret any readings they receive that resemble Borg signatures." She took the PADD and manipulated the readout, handing back to Kathryn. "Notice the telemetry now."

"Borg signatures? Ah. Here. And here." She straightened some, suddenly very concerned. "It looks like the ship is transmitting a Borg frequency?"

"Actually, it's the frequency from Unimatrix Zero."

Kathryn's head snapped up. "Do you think the Queen is seeking revenge for our destruction of the hub?"

"No, I don't. The source, as far as I can tell, is a small scout ship headed directly toward the Federation. It seems to be acting independently."

"Rogue drones from Unimatrix Zero?"

"While I believe it's probable, we won't know for sure until we get a closer scan. Starfleet intends to send a ship to investigate, and I want to be on board."

Kathryn hesitated only a moment before she made the connection. "Axum? Do you think this could be him?"

"I want to think it is." Seven could barely contain her growing excitement. "He promised he would find me, and he knew where Voyager was headed. The timing is about right if he used every resource available to him."

Kathryn took a second, more careful look at the PADD. "It's a long shot, but I can see why you want to be there."

"And that's why I'm here so early this morning. I have a berth on the 0830 transport to DS9, but first I need to make sure I'll be allowed through the wormhole asa member of the Starfleet crew preparing to intercept the vessel."

"I see." At last she realized why Seven was there--to ask for her help in arranging the posting on the ship being sent to the Gamma Quadrant. She wanted to be there in case the Borg scout ship was piloted by Axum, the man she loved. "Have you spoken to Admiral Harris about this?"

"I spoke to him about this situation, but he was unconvinced of my need to 'assist' when and if Starfleet makes contact with the scout ship."

"I know Admiral Harris. In fact, until my assignment was changed to the Romulan crisis, I was supposed to work with him in the Gamma Quadrant. He's a reasonable person." She grew thoughtful, imagining the best way to approach the situation. "Are they sending the Delacroix?" At Seven's nod, Kathryn put a reassuring hand on her arm. "Take the 0830 shuttle and leave everything else up to me. I'll make sure things are settled by the time you arrive at DS9."

"Thank you, Kathryn."

"I'm glad I'm able to help, Seven. Chakotay and I both want you to be happy."

She smiled sadly, "I know that, Kathryn." Seven stood and walked to the window. "I realize this is a gamble, but I believe Axum is on that ship, and I don't want to miss the chance to find him again."

Before Kathryn could answer, the door to the bedroom opened and Chakotay appeared dressed in the briefs he'd found on the bedroom floor, his eyes squinted in the glaring light. "Kathryn, what's going on out here? Who're you talking to?"

"Seven of Nine," she replied calmly, nodding toward their visitor. Somehow, she managed to avoid laughing as a series of emotions crossed his face—surprise, then shock, followed by embarrassment and panic.

"I'll be right back," he stammered, ducking into the bedroom.

"I don't think he was expecting me," Seven commented, her eyes twinkling with humor.

Kathryn chuckled. "To say the least."

Chakotay reappeared at the door in his trousers and t-shirt, still barefoot. "Hello, Seven," he said, looking more than a little embarrassed. "Is something wrong?"

"I apologize for interrupting your sleep," Seven replied, "but I had a favor to ask of the admiral that couldn't wait."

Kathryn quickly summarized the situation and then stood up. "I think I'll take this opportunity to give you two some time alone," she said, walking to Seven's side. "Have a good trip, and I hope you find Axum on that scout ship. Let me worry about getting you through the Bajoran wormhole and onto the proper ship."

"Thank you, Kathryn."

She walked toward the bedroom, stopping beside Chakotay and taking his hand. "I think you two need to talk," she whispered, giving his hand a squeeze and reaching up to give him a kiss on the cheek. "You were right about her coming to us eventually, you know. I even believe that she's forgiven us."

Kathryn returned to the bedroom, closing the door behind her. As much as she would love to eavesdrop on the conversation between the two, she decided to take the high road and give them their privacy. Besides, she was still worn out from the wine, their late night, and the emotional discussion with Seven. Pulling off the robe, she crawled back into bed and burrowed into the pillows.

She felt better than she had in months. Talking to Seven had relieved her of the guilt she'd felt for becoming involved with Chakotay and effectively ruining their romance. She was also convinced that the former drone was well on her way to happiness. For the first time since she'd met him a decade earlier, she was totally free to express her love Chakotay publicly and without any reservations.

Later in the day, she'd make a few calls, start working on getting Seven assigned to the Delacroix. It would take the shuttle a week to reach DS9, so she had some time to think about the best way to proceed. In the meantime, she meant to enjoy the rest of their brief vacation. She closed her eyes with a smile on her face and drifted off to sleep.

Some time later, she reached for Chakotay, only to discover he wasn't there. She looked around the room for him, trying to remember whether he might be in the bathroom, finally remembering that he'd been talking to Seven of Nine. She crawled out of bed, retrieved the robe, and made her way to the living room.

The room was bright with sunlight, and the blue sky that filled the windows was breathtakingly beautiful. Chakotay was sprawled on the sofa, his feet on the coffee table, quietly watching the day begin.

"Chakotay? Has Seven gone?"

He turned to her with a smile, holding out a hand as an invitation to join him. "She left about an hour ago," he explained. "There was no way she was going to miss that shuttle. I just needed some time to think."

"If I'm interrupting you, I can go back to bed," she said as she settled next to him, her eyes widening at the site of a coffee pot and mug on the table.

"Help yourself," he laughed, and she picked up the mug for a satisfying sip. "I'm afraid I'm learning some of your bad habits."

"Coffee is a good habit." She put the mug back on the table and slid her arms around him, snuggling into his side. "Do you need to talk?"

"I was just thinking about this suite, this hotel. So many important things have happened to me right here."

"Yes. It was here that we finally gave in to that incredible attraction we've always felt for each other."

"Which you continued to fight tooth and nail." She could hear the frustration in his voice and looked up at him, a little surprised. "You just weren't willing to accept that what was happening between us was meant to be."

"Because of Seven," she explained. "It's really out of character for either of us to become involved with anyone who's already dating someone else—especially someone as special to us as Seven."

"What about Randy Wingate? You were seeing him, weren't you?"

"That was never very serious. He didn't go study the Kohlinar after I called things off." They were silent awhile, enjoying the company and the view. "Besides, I think you felt guilty about Seven of Nine, too."

"I was, but I'm not any more. I think she's forgiven us, Kathryn, and I think she's learned a lot about life from the experience." He closed his eyes for a moment and then forged ahead. "I know it sounds bizarre, considering the intimacy of my relationship with Seven, but I found myself feeling paternal toward her this morning."

"Well, there's no reason to feel guilty about that. You aren't her real father, after all. And, I have to admit that I sometimes feel maternal toward her, too." Kathryn looked at the blue sky, imagining the spaceport overhead, with a transport ship preparing to leave for DS9. "She deserves to be happy, Chakotay."

He shifted slightly, so he could look into her eyes. "Are you happy, Kathryn?"

"I am now," she smiled up at him, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Do you believe in fate, Chakotay?"

"In some ways. I believe that there are good and bad choices in our lives, that our happiness depends on being true to our beliefs and feelings."

She thought about that for awhile. "Maybe that was what made Admiral Janeway so sad. She hadn't been true to her feelings about you, and she suffered because of that."

"Maybe so." He agreed. "And we were miserable when our relationship was in conflict with our beliefs about being honest and sincere with Seven and Randy."

She sighed. "It all seems so complicated."

"And so simple."

"Simple?"

He smiled, and she melted at the sight of his dimples. "I love you, Kathryn. What could be more simple than that?"

"I love you, too, Chakotay." She tightened her grip on him. "And you're right. There's nothing more simple, or more wonderful, than that."

The end—


End file.
